


i'll be waiting

by keijibeam



Series: simple vs. complicated [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anxious Akaashi Keiji, Canon Compliant, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Insecure Akaashi Keiji, M/M, Pining Akaashi Keiji, Pre-Canon, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, cute owl team dynamics, rest in pieces akaashi keiji, this is rated T because kids are cussin and gettin bloody noses but really...it's probably G jsyk, you can't tell me it's not
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:54:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 49,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26789281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keijibeam/pseuds/keijibeam
Summary: Celestial bodies are famously simple yet complex. The sun, the moon, and a five-pointed star are some of the first images many children learn to recognize, but one could spend their entire life studying the galaxy and still know next to nothing about it.When he first saw Bokuto, he wondered how many lifetimes it would take to learn the ins and outs of this star.--a series of episodes exploring akaashi's relationships with bokuto, his teammates, and himself during his first two years at fukurodani.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji & All of Fukurodani, Akaashi Keiji & Bokuto Koutarou, Akaashi Keiji & Konoha Akinori, Akaashi Keiji & my Many Same-Aged OCs, Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Series: simple vs. complicated [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2157753
Comments: 23
Kudos: 125





	1. ep 1: the sound of you calling my name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> akaashi has many jobs; cataloguing the ways bokuto says his name is the most important one

Despite being only a second year on the Fukurodani volleyball team, Akaashi Keiji had many roles, titles, duties, and responsibilities entrusted to him. The faith that others had in him gave him the determination he needed to fulfill each job. Having a role to play, being in charge and relied on, having something else to focus on outside of his own worries made him feel at ease. Still, with each obligation came its own unique demands.

As the setter, it was important to be able to read his opponents.

As vice-captain, it was his job to tend to the needs of his teammates.

As Akaashi Keiji, it was crucial that he understand the inner workings of Bokuto Koutarou.

The last role was the most complex, and yet the simplest.

  
  


☆☆☆

  
  


Celestial bodies are famously simple yet complex. The sun, the moon, and a five-pointed star are some of the first images many children learn to recognize, but one could spend their entire life studying the galaxy and still know next to nothing about it.

When he first saw Bokuto, he wondered how many lifetimes it would take to learn the ins and outs of this star. 

  
  


☆☆☆

  
  


One of the tricks to understanding Bokuto was listening to the way he called out to Keiji.

“Ah-ga-aw-shee,” meant he was upset with his own shortcomings.

“Aw-KA-AH-shee!” indicated he felt he was being treated unfairly. By their teammates, by Keiji himself, by the referee, or by spectators.

“Akaashi!” shouted at the top of his lungs from all the way across the gym meant he was ready for another round of after-practice spiking drills.

“.....Akaashi?” was the signal for a number of Bokuto’s weaknesses. Each one had their own version of Keiji’s name.

This was a skill Keiji developed early on in his first year. His ability to interpret Bokuto’s behavior was something his teammates quickly learned to take advantage of.

“Uh. Ka-ah. Shee!” Bokuto shouted, a grin spread wide across his face. A ball was tucked under his arm. Esteem and adoration for the team's ace swelled in his chest as Bokuto bounded across the gym towards him, but with it a sense of doubt. Something else hid behind the eagerness in his tone.

“Bokuto-san, I noticed the rest of the second years packing up early,” Keiji noted as Bokuto jogged up to him. “Won’t you be joining them?”

Bokuto shook his head and scrunched his nose. “I wanna practice spiking with you!” He held the ball out towards Keiji.

The earlier inkling tugged on the edge of Keiji’s thoughts.

“Are you sure? If there’s something you need to take care of, spiking practice can wait.”

As soon as Bokuto opened his mouth to reply, the locker room doors slammed open and Konoha and Sarukui came barreling out.

“BOKUTO KOUTAROU!” Konoha shouted. “Are you trying to escape? You know we won’t let you!”

Fear washed over Bokuto’s face as the pair ran towards him. His head swiveled back and forth, desperate for an escape route. The rest of the first years were crowded around the exit that led outside while Sarukui and Konoha stood between him and the locker room door. For all his prowess as the ace of a powerhouse, he couldn’t manage to find a route to freedom before the two had him pinned against a wall.

“Exams start next week,” Sarukui warned, “and out of all the second years, you’re the one in the most amount of danger.”

“You’re overexaggerating!” Bokuto cried. “I always manage to pass.”

“Yeah, thanks to us,” Konoha said. “Because we drag you to our study sessions.”

“And cram as much knowledge as we can into that thick skull of yours,” Sarukui added, raising his hand to tousle Bokuto’s hair. Bokuto raised his hands up to his spiked horns protectively. “Which, considering the size of your head, isn’t much.”

Bokuto squawked and swiped Sarukui’s hands away. “I’m telling you, it’s fine. I’ll be _fine_!”

“One point!” Konoha wagged a finger in the air. Sarukui added his own finger for emphasis. “One point less and you would have failed! Don’t you remember the last exams?”

“But I got the point, didn’t I?!” Bokuto held the ball against his chest, his arms wrapped around it protectively as if it was his own determination not to study that he was cradling.

With a groan, Konoha slapped a hand to his forehead. “We go over this every time! Why do you always make it so difficult?”

“We’ll drag you along eventually,” Sarukui chided, “whether you like it or not.”

Bokuto’s lips quivered, his eyebrows furrowed in frustration. Keiji watched this scene between the second years unfold from the outside, internally sympathizing with his senpai, who only wanted the best for their team. As an idea turned over in his mind, Bokuto caught his eye and lunged forward, grasping the hem of his shirt.

“Aw-KA-AH-shee! Don’t you think I'm right? Spiking practice is more important!”

A brief moment passed while Keiji thought to himself. He looked back and forth between Sarukui and Konoha, who looked back at him with uncertainty in their eyes. A month had passed since he joined the team; Bokuto was by far the member he had spent the most time with, due to the fact he was the only one willing to stay late for Bokuto’s spiking drills. He couldn’t blame them for being hesitant to trust him.

“Spiking practice is important,” Keiji agreed. Sarukui and Konoha dropped their shoulders in defeat. Bokuto was about to leap in the air with joy. “But that’s not what’s most important right now.”

All three pairs of eyes watching Keiji widened.

“The school rules might not be as strict, but you know what Coach Yamiji is like,” Keiji said. “He won’t allow anyone to participate in practice if they fail even one test.”

“That’s what I'm saying, I never failed _even one test_ \--”

“Maybe not, but is that a risk you’re willing to take? Furthermore, I don’t know if I could manage to set for someone who failed an exam, even if it was for spiking practice. Even if they failed by only one point.”

The ball Bokuto held slipped from his fingers. Keiji caught it before it hit the gymnasium floor.

“Seriously?” Bokuto asked with a quiet voice.

“Do you want to find out?” Keiji answered.

A long silence passed of Bokuto staring down at him wide-eyed in shock, long enough that Keiji had begun to second-guess himself, wondering if he might have triggered Bokuto’s ‘emo mode’ by even suggesting that he would punish him by withholding tosses --

And then Bokuto was gone, the doors to the locker room slamming against the walls of the gymnasium as he burst through them. His head poked back through the door frame as he yelled, “

give me five minutes to shower!” before he disappeared again.

Sarukui and Konoha exchanged identical expressions of wonder before turning their gaze back to Keiji.

“So, Akaashi-kun,” Sarukui started.

“You really know how to keep that airhead in check, eh?” Konoha finished. 

“Not really,” Keiji replied, “I only --”

“Don’t be shy!” Sarukui emphasized his words by wrapping an arm around Keiji’s shoulder. “You’ve definitely got a talent for it, we’ve seen you practice with him.”

“You’re like a Bokuto whisperer,” Konoha said, his eyes narrowing to match the sly grin growing on his face.

Each of them were on either side of Keiji now, peering at him with eager eyes and he wondered if he ought to be looking for an escape route the way Bokuto had earlier.

“Why don’t you join us?” Sarukui squeezed the arm he had around the first year and Keiji wasn’t sure if it was meant to be menacing or encouraging.

“I have my own studying to do…” This was mostly true, Keiji did have studying he could do. From the sound of it, he wasn’t in need of it nearly as bad as their ace. Other than that, he didn’t quite trust the glances his senpai were giving him.

Konoha gave up on subtlety and clasped Keiji’s hand between both of his. “We’re desperate, Akaashi-kun. Please help us."

Keiji considered the concern in their eyes, the effect Bokuto’s poor grades would have on the team, the look of despair Bokuto wore as his teammates cornered him, but thoughts of Bokuto led to the image of the shining grin he wore whenever Keiji caught his eye and then Keiji’s chest grew tight and it became difficult to remember what he was trying to convince himself of in the first place.

“Okay, I'll go.”

Sarukui and Konoha each slapped a hand on his shoulder in thanks. He left shortly after, quick to pack up his things and shower before he kept his teammates waiting.

The second year study sessions, Keiji learned, most often took place at Washio’s since he lived within a reasonable walking distance from the school. For most of their walk, Bokuto kept a short distance behind Konoha and Sarukui, the gloomy look on his face emphasized by the dripping locks of gray hair that clung to his forehead and cheeks. Keiji walked beside him, for no other reason than, as Konoha and Sarukui implied, he was there to keep an eye on their ace. He thought Bokuto might be pouting because of the situation he had found himself in, but considering it was Bokuto, Keiji knew there was a chance it was something else.

“Is something wrong, Bokuto-san?”

Bokuto grunted and kicked a rock to the side.

If he wasn’t in the mood to respond, Keiji could work around that. Besides the form his name took, a keen observer could find other tells to indicate Bokuto’s mood and thought process. The hunch of his shoulders, the slouch in his gait, the wrinkle between his eyebrows.

The height of his hair.

“I’ve never seen your hair down before,” Keiji commented. “I was surprised at how well you pull it off.”

Bokuto let out a “hmph” and turned his head so Keiji couldn’t see his expression, but he did notice Bokuto’s slouch softened the smallest bit.

“Nobody looks good with wet hair,” Bokuto replied.

“I don’t think that’s true. Regardless,” Keiji said, “even owls get caught in the rain sometimes. That doesn’t make them any less distinguished.”

Bokuto turned back towards him, his eyebrows raised and the despair gone from his expression for now. He watched Keiji for a few moments and then sighed, throwing an arm around the setter and pulling him closer.

“I guess I'll forgive you for saying something so cruel earlier, like you’d never set to me again.”

“I wasn’t trying to be cruel, Bokuto-san, I only want you to do your best.”

Bokuto thrust his head forward until his face was directly in front of Keiji’s. Wide, golden eyes bore into him.

“I already said I forgive you! Let’s let bygones be bygones.”

He pulled his head back, his face passed out of view, and his arm tightened around Keiji’s shoulders. The arm around him didn’t bring about a sense of menace or encouragement; it felt hot, warmth seething through the fabric and burning Keiji’s skin, and he thought, this must be what it feels like to touch a star.

“Whatever you say, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto knocked his head against Keiji’s gently and in a quiet voice asked, “what does ‘distinguished’ mean?”

“...It means you draw a lot of attention.”

Slowly, Bokuto’s expression returned to the confident grin Keiji was used to.

“In a good way, right?”

“Of course, Bokuto-san.”

His smile lasted until he, along with most of the other second years, huddled around a small table in Washio’s bedroom. The atmosphere was tense as they all glared with equal intensity at their textbooks, worksheets, and notes from class. Not wanting to crowd them, Keiji set himself up against a wall with a pillow behind him. Washio’s room was small enough that there were only a few centimeters between his stretched out leg and Bokuto’s back, which was curled over one of his many (empty) workbooks.

What Keiji gleaned from their agitated mumbling was that they all were in dangerous territory when it came to schoolwork. Bokuto was definitely the farthest behind, but not by a lot. Sarukui and Komi were a hair’s breadth ahead of him in every subject except for mathematics -- a subject that had been able to completely stop their ace in his tracks where so many blockers had failed. Washio was harder to read as he managed to keep up his trademark silence throughout the meeting, but he was undoubtedly responsible for some of the tension in the room. The rest of the second years, including the managers, were a mystery to Keiji, as they hadn’t shown up. From those who were gathered, Keiji got the impression that Konoha was the least troubled, academics-wise, as he was the one that everyone turned to when they had a question. For most of those questions, he didn’t have an answer; still, they continued to ask him.

It grew dark out and Keiji’s legs ached from being in the same position for so long, but he didn’t want to leave. Even if he wasn’t contributing much or getting a lot of his own studying done, he was enjoying being there. Besides that, his senpai had included him for a reason; even if it was just for moral support, they were his teammates now. He wanted to be someone they could rely on. He knew it wasn’t necessary for him to be there, they could have dragged Bokuto to study on their own. They would have coerced him or tricked him eventually. If they hadn’t and Bokuto did slip up on an exam, once would be enough to teach him his lesson.

...So why _was_ he there? If it was to keep Bokuto focused, they were doing well enough on their own. He was just a decoration in the room, tucked into the corner, shoved against a wall, where he was out of the way. The thought rolled through his mind repeatedly, idly, a bitter and familiar feeling planting itself deep in his stomach. 

A sharp cry from Bokuto freed him from his trance.

“I'm sick of this!” Bokuto shouted as he flung backwards, his head landing in Keiji’s lap. “All of the numbers are blurring together.”

“Aren’t you working on English, Bokuto-san?”

“You see! I can’t even tell the difference between numbers and words anymore.”

It was the fifth time that Bokuto had flung himself backwards in agony that evening, but judging by the fact that none of the other second years were dragging him back to the table, the study session was coming to an end. Komi had flung himself forward, his arms sprawled out across the table; Sarukui’s head was tilted back, his eyes closed and mouth open; Konoha’s head was in his hands; and Washio was still glaring intensely at his textbook. They all looked as exhausted as Bokuto did.

Bokuto’s head was still in Keiji’s lap, his lips curled into a frown. The silver hair that splayed out across Keiji's leg looked mostly dry. Just to check, he carded his fingers through Bokuto's hair. It was only a little damp at the base of his skull, where Keiji’s fingers pressed lightly against his scalp. Bokuto looked up at him, his expression softening.

“I suppose you’ve studied enough for one night,” Keiji said.

Once they had collected their things, they slowly made their way to the train station. Sarukui, still on the verge of sleep even as he walked, had to be propped up on either side by Komi and Konoha. On the train, he fell asleep immediately, and Komi and Konoha took turns hitting each other with his limp hands. Across from them, Bokuto rested his head against Keiji’s shoulder. Keiji considered himself lucky the rest of the second years were too preoccupied to look across the train car and see how pink his face must be turning.

When he stood to get off the train, he was surprised to see Bokuto follow him.

“I didn’t know this was your stop, too,” Keiji said.

Bokuto shrugged and gave a half-smile. He looked tired still, which Keiji blamed his lack of verbal communication on.

From the platform, they watched the train speed away. Through the window, Komi and Konoha each waved one of Sarukui’s hands.

“Where to now?” Bokuto asked after releasing a long yawn.

Keiji raised an eyebrow. “Where to? Shouldn’t you be going home?”

“I will! After I walk you home.”

Walk him home? No one had ever walked him home before, not since he had started taking himself to and from school. In fact, he enjoyed the alone time he had during his daily commute. Those were the best times for introspection.

“Bokuto-san, aren’t you tired? You don’t have to walk me home...”

Bokuto scowled down at him as if Keiji had made the most ridiculous suggestion he’d ever heard. Even through his scowl, Keiji could tell he was exhausted. He knew that he should insist Bokuto take himself home and get some rest, insist that it was completely unnecessary for him to walk Keiji home, especially in his state, especially this late.

But a very greedy part of him wanted Bokuto to stay with him for as long as possible.

Keiji sighed as if he was making some great concession on Bokuto’s behalf despite the satisfaction he felt inside.

“This way.”

Bokuto followed at Keiji’s side, the walk energizing him enough to chat happily as they made their way to Keiji’s neighborhood. A few times, Bokuto was too engrossed in conversation to notice Keiji stop or turn and he would head in the wrong direction on his own. Keiji only had to tug on his sleeve before Bokuto beamed back at him, returned to his side, and continued what he was saying. He talked about the new yakiniku place near his house (so cheap but _so_ good), their upcoming practice match (against a team Bokuto referred to as “those nasty kitty-cats”), what exam he was most nervous for (it was all of them.) Even though he felt as though he had little to add, Keiji felt happy to do nothing but listen to him talk. When the feeling that had planted itself in his stomach earlier attempted to rise up and intrude his thoughts, he swatted it down, trying his best to barricade it from the precious time he had with his star.

As they turned onto Keiji’s street, Bokuto grew quiet. It was an affluent neighborhood, featuring perfect landscaping and contemporary-style homes, so he wondered if that had grabbed Bokuto’s attention. When he looked at Bokuto, he didn’t seem distracted by his surroundings at all, if he was even paying attention to them. His eyes were unfocused, staring into the distance at nothing.

Keiji stopped in front of his apartment building and turned to Bokuto to say goodbye. Bokuto met his gaze and his golden eyes blazed under the street lamps. Not for the first or the last time, Keiji thought this was what a star would look like close-up. His chest tightened and the goodbye he meant to say became trapped in his throat.

“‘Kaashi?” Bokuto spoke so quietly that the first syllable was lost, but because it was the only thing Keiji could hear, it sounded louder than Bokuto had ever said his name before. It was spoken almost tonelessly, but not without care behind it. Keiji would come to classify this as the rarest form of his name. It was only ever said outside of uniform, outside of matches altogether, practice or otherwise. As far as he knew, Keiji was the only person to hear this version of Bokuto’s speech. All it asked for was his attention, not to be coddled or comforted, but to be listened to.

His throat was too dry to speak so he hummed in response.

“You’ve been kinda quiet.”

Keiji once more that evening felt lucky, this time for the darkness that shielded his cheeks as he felt them burning up.

“I apologize, I'm not much of a conversationalist -- ”

“You don’t have to talk for me to get you.” As he spoke, Bokuto looked at Keiji with such certainty that it made his stomach lurch. “But if there’s something on your mind, you don’t have to bottle it up, either.”

Keiji looked down at his hands. He pressed his palms together and twisted them; his fingers fidgeted, tugging at one another, at his wrists. How long had he been wringing his hands together? It was such an ingrained habit that he hardly noticed, but as Bokuto watched him with those eyes, it was all he could focus on. It wasn’t a question. He hadn’t asked him anything, but Keiji still felt obligated to respond. He just didn’t know how.

Bokuto didn’t let him spend too much time worrying about how to reply.

“If you ever want to let it out, you can count on me,” he started, much louder than before, and with his thumb pointed towards himself. “As your teammate, as your ace, and as your future captain, you can always rely on me!”

Keiji blinked, out of surprise, relief, wonderment. This was Bokuto: confident, empathetic, encouraging, and more perceptive than anyone expected him to be. Keiji smiled back at him.

“The other second years can’t even trust you to study on your own, but you expect them to vote for you as their captain?”

“That’s --” Bokuto had the same look of betrayal on his face as when Sarukui and Konoha had cornered him earlier. “This is this and that’s that!”

In an attempt to not further upset Bokuto, Keiji covered his growing smile with his hand. “Goodnight, Bokuto-san.” He turned and walked toward the building, combing through his bag to find his keyring.

“Akaashi!”

He turned around at the sound of his name to see Bokuto still standing on the sidewalk, his feet spread apart, hands in fists at his side. From this distance, with this little light, Keiji couldn’t see his expression.

“Did you mean it when you said you wouldn’t toss to me if I got a bad grade?”

Keiji couldn’t help but laugh.

“Keep your grades up, Bokuto-san, and you’ll never have to find out.” 

  
  


☆☆☆

  
  


As he laid in bed that night, what Bokuto had said to him rolled over in his mind, again and again.

‘ _You don’t have to talk for me to get you._ ’

He thought about how much time and effort he put into learning about and understanding his cherished star, how he could tell by the sound of his name alone what his star was worried about, what he needed to be taken care of. When he remembered what Bokuto said, a warmth like nothing he’d felt before sprung from the tips of his toes to the top of his scalp; he had to squeeze his eyes shut and pull the blanket completely over his head to save himself from bursting from the pressure.

He had never considered that someone so precious might study him the same way he studied the stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> check out jackie's [beautiful artwork](https://t-recksie.tumblr.com/post/629653820918595584/keiji-stopped-in-front-of-his-apartment-building) for this chapter!!
> 
> as stated in the summary, this is intended to be a series of "episodes," which should amount to about ten in total. i'm not sure how many chapters that will be but :) episodes may be broken up into separate chapters, just to make them easier to read/so i can upload more frequently since the episodes will get quite long.
> 
> thank you so much for reading! hmu on [twitter](https://twitter.com/boomairspike) and [tumblr](https://boomairspike.tumblr.com/) to talk about bokuaka or gush about volleyball in general


	2. ep 2: you have to want it badly enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some insecurities come to light during a match against tokyo's most conscionable contender

As the volleyball club of a powerhouse school, the Fukurodani team was full of accomplished athletes. Each student, no matter the year, was of a high enough skill level to be assigned as a regular on a team fit for nationals.

If this were any school other than Fukurodani, that might have been good enough.

With so many athletes of such a high caliber, the only thing that set them apart was time. Time spent training, time in actual matches, time left before graduation. The last factor was their biggest motivation to train, but the experience the third years had gained was all that kept them one step ahead of their younger teammates. Because of this, the roster of regulars was dominated by third years; all except for two roles.

As he had been since the day he joined Fukurodani, outside hitter Bokuto was their ace. It hadn’t been official his first year, despite him being made a regular, but no one could deny it. In his second year, he was finally allowed the coveted number “4”. When Bokuto was first given the jersey, Keiji watched his expression disappear as he buried his beaming smile and watery eyes into the fabric. He never forgot the feeling that rose in his chest after that.

The role of setter was the only position that happened to have a scarce number of players vying for it. Keiji was the only member of the volleyball club whose original position was setter, but he never entertained the notion that he might be made a regular. He knew the second years had a member who had already proven themself as capable of playing any position, including setter. Konoha “jack of all trades, master of none” Akinori had been given the regular spot of setter at the beginning of his second year.

After he was made a regular, Konoha confided in the second years that he wasn’t as confident in his abilities as a setter as he was in his original position of wing spiker.

“If you’re not confident, then become confident!” Bokuto stood and pointed his lunch, a yakisoba pan, at Konoha as he spoke. Noodles and bread crumbs flew out around them. “Just practice until you’re the best!”

Keiji, Bokuto, Konoha, Komi, Sarukui, and Washio were eating lunch together in one of the second year classrooms when Bokuto made this declaration. It was where the group usually ate their lunch, ever since Keiji had been dubbed “an honorary second year.” He had been given the title in a ceremony of Komi and Sarukui’s design; it involved him kneeling on the ground in the courtyard and being slapped on the shoulder several times by a plastic-wrapped onigiri. He’d been given the onigiri to eat afterwards, at least.

Konoha raised his eyebrows incredulously. “That’s easy for you to say, you’ve been the ace since you got here.”

“And I practice so much so it stays that way! Right, Akaashi?”

Keiji wasn’t really sure what the question was, since everyone acknowledged Bokuto both as the ace and as the person who trained the most out of anyone on the team. He nodded and hummed in agreement anyway.

Bokuto brought his lunch-wielding hand down onto Keiji’s shoulder and Keiji brushed away the crumbs that fell onto his jacket.

“Akaashi will help you train! Won’t you, Akaashi?”

“You’re thoroughly capable as a setter already, in my opinion; I’d be happy to help you train nonetheless, Konoha-san.”

Komi nudged Keiji in the side with his elbow and leaned towards him. “That’s our honorary second year! Always going out of his way to help others.”

Keiji flushed as Sarukui leaned across the desk to pinch his cheek. “Teach him to be a little more level-headed on the court, okay?”

“My head is totally levelled!” Konoha slapped Sarukui’s outstretched arm away.

Sarukui raised an eyebrow. “Is that how you want to phrase it?”

Komi’s laughter came out in a snort. “I think his phrasing is accurate.”

Between the two of them, Washio had been sitting and eating in silence. They both gave him a rough pat to either shoulder before Sarukui said, “don’t just sit there in silence!”

“Say something encouraging to your teammate!” Komi added.

Washio looked up from his pile of milk bread, and then back and forth between the two of them. If Keiji had to guess at what the pinch of his mouth and his furrowed brow indicated, he would say Washio was mildly surprised. It was hard to say; Washio’s expressions always left one guessing.

Washio turned that gaze towards Konoha. “You were assigned a regular position. Isn’t that enough proof that you deserve the spot?”

Konoha turned his head down towards his bento, but he wasn’t fast enough for Keiji to miss the pink that spread across his cheeks. “I suppose you make a good point,” he mumbled to his lunch.

On the other side of Keiji, Bokuto dropped into the empty seat he had sprung from moments before. “Um, Akaashi, even if you do extra training with Konoha, you’ll keep time open to train with me, right?”

“Don’t I always?”

In return, Bokuto smiled so brightly that Keiji couldn’t help but smile back.

  
  


☆☆☆

  
  


If Konoha still had qualms about his setting abilities after that lunch, he did a good job of hiding them. Despite the lack of confidence he initially displayed, he rejoiced in joining Bokuto to boast about being a starting player. They would stand in front of the starry-eyed first years and lecture that “someday, this could be you, too,” until the captain, Torii, walked by and gave them a glare. Konoha especially enjoyed taunting third years during practice matches, whether they were against other schools or his own teammates, by saying, “what, are you going to lose against your _kouhai_?” They even had a way of walking into the gym that showed off their confidence, which they showcased on their way to Fukurodani’s first match of the Interhigh Qualifiers.

As he usually did, Bokuto leapt in both feet first -- literally, by hopping from their bus to the gymnasium and through the doors. Konoha followed, one foot at a time, with a wide stride and his chest puffed out, all the way to the locker room. Bokuto even had ideas about how to make a grand entrance onto the court.

“What if,” Bokuto said, “you all carry me out to the court on your shoulders? And we all hooted! Like owls!”

Torii sighed, exasperation clear in the lines between his eyebrows. “Bokuto, it will not be to our advantage if our opponents and the spectators are laughing at us before we even begin our warm-up.”

“How about this,” Bokuto continued, never one to be deterred, “what if, every time I score a point, you all lift me up? And we can all hoot!”

Torii took a deep breath before he turned his back towards Bokuto and began to speak with the coach.

Bokuto turned to Keiji with a frown. “Don’t you think that’s a good idea?”

No, he thought, it probably wasn’t a good idea, but neither would be deflating Bokuto’s ego right before a match. Keiji would have to turn this into a moment of motivation instead.

“I think that level of ceremony is too grandiose for this match. If you want us to treat you like a champion, win nationals for us first.”

Bokuto’s eyes grew wide. “Akaashi!” he rushed forward and grabbed Keiji’s hands, squeezing them between his and waving them up and down. “I will! We will! We’ll win them all! And then we’ll celebrate, right? Right, Akaashi?”

All the nerves that felt calm in spite of his team’s upcoming match erupted at the feeling of Bokuto’s hands around his. When Bokuto looked at him with those wide, golden eyes, his heart pounded as if it were going to jump out of his chest.

“Yes, Bokuto-san. We’ll celebrate however you like.”

Bokuto pulled away to raise his fists in the air and shouted, “yesssss!” Coach Yamiji announced that it was time to head to the court for their warm-ups, and with his fists still held high, Bokuto shouted, “hey hey hey! Let’s go!” before bounding out the door.

Thanks to their fourth place win in the Kantou Tournament earlier that spring, they had the privilege of resting until the third round. They won their first match easily enough before moving on. For the quarterfinals, they were matched against Nohebi Academy, a school that seemed, despite what their banner said, to be uninterested in playing “fair and square.”

In the beginning, their taunts and jeers were directed at the third years, who were largely unaffected. Fukurodani took the first set easily. In the second, Nohebi turned their remarks towards the second years of the team.

The ace was their first target. As he usually did, Bokuto favored his cross shots that match. Nohebi quickly picked up on this.

“Looks like their ace couldn’t hit a straight if he tried!”

“Can he really be considered an ace if all he can do is cross shots?”

“I thought this was a powerhouse school. Is that really the best player they have?”

Their insults left a bitter taste in Keiji’s mouth. Bokuto’s inability to do a straight was something he had also criticized him for. When they returned to school, he would make sure to include this in their spiking practice.

Whether or not Bokuto could hit a straight, Nohebi failed to follow through by actually blocking his cross shots. Their provocation was ineffective, so they changed targets.

“What’s with that setter? Is this his first time playing?”

“What was his nickname?”

“‘ _Jack of all trades, master of none_ ,’ wasn’t it?”

“Certainly looks like he hasn’t mastered those tosses yet!”

Konoha didn’t react to their comments and Keiji remembered Sarukui’s request to help him become more level-headed. Keiji thought it an unnecessary one now. He kept sending tosses, the spikers kept hitting them, and Nohebi kept jeering.

“Isn’t he making them work too hard for those sets?”

Konoha’s hand slipped and he sent Bokuto a shaky toss. He spiked it, nonetheless, got the point, and gave Konoha a slap on the back and his widest grin. Konoha smiled weakly in response, tilting his head forward in apology.

“They’re either too low or too high! Pick one, why don’t you?”

The next toss went to Torii, but their timing was off and Konoha sent the ball too late. The captain corrected; he touched the ball just enough to get it over the net. Nohebi received successfully and took the point. Torii exchanged high-fives with Konoha and Keiji heard a chorus of “don’t mind!” coming from the court.

“I wouldn’t want to be the one to hit _those_ tosses!”

And then, Konoha’s tosses got worse. Each one was either too high, too low, too fast, too slow, or missed the mark entirely. Their teammates were able to correct for many of them and get them over the net or rebounded them, but slowly, Nohebi began to catch up.

Not only was Konoha flailing, but Keiji noticed Bokuto's expression shift. Nothing drastic had happened yet, his playing was still the same as always, but Keiji could tell by the tightness in his lips and the lines in his forehead that a mood swing was on the horizon.

Before it could rise any further, the whistle blew for a time-out. It was an attempt from their side to halt momentum, to give Konoha a chance to catch his breath, to regroup. The team walked over to the bench to grab water, towels, and get their pep talk from the coach. Keiji touched Bokuto's arm and gestured to a spot a little ways away from the team.

"Bokuto-san, is something wrong?"

Bokuto grunted in response. His shoulders were hunched and he had pulled a towel over his head, flattening his horns. Keiji made a mental note not to mention that last detail to him until after the match.

"Was it something the other team said? Are their insults to Konoha-san bothering you, or -- "

"That's it exactly!" Bokuto shouted. Keiji had pulled Bokuto to the side and spoke quietly with the intention to keep their conversation to themselves; Bokuto was unconcerned with how much attention they drew. "Why are they going after Konoha and not _me_?!"

Keiji's mind went blank, every rational thought he'd ever had withdrawing into seclusion.

"You... _want_ them to provoke you?"

"I'm the _ace_ _!_ " Bokuto threw his hands out in front of him. "Isn't it an insult if they don't go after me?"

“They -- they _did_ go after you,” Keiji sputtered. “They criticized your technique but were powerless to actually block you, so gave up. Don’t you remember?”

“They should have tried _harder!_ ”

The rough draft of a growing list rolled through Keiji's mind. _Desperate for attention, whether good or bad_. It was the twelfth item Keiji had catalogued so far, all of which were vulnerabilities Bokuto had exhibited. Everyone from their team, including Keiji, stared at him in stunned silence. silence. If Bokuto had one talent outside of volleyball, it was shocking every thought out of a person’s head.

The silence shattered at a loud laugh from Konoha, who came up from behind Bokuto to slap him on the shoulder. "I can't believe you're finally jealous of me on the court and it's because I'm being insulted!"

"Who said I was jealous?!"

"You just admitted it!"

Bokuto let out an agitated groan and Konoha laughed again. Torii grabbed both of them by the shoulder and dragged them back to the bench, where the coach gave one final lecture before they returned to the court. After the outburst from Bokuto, Konoha's mood lifted considerably; in turn, his taunts left Bokuto’s horns looking perkier. Nohebi had the next serve, but the atmosphere on the Fukurodani side of the court had already changed.

The next rally began and the ball went flying over the net, received gracefully by Fukurodani’s libero. He sent it to Konoha who tossed it easily to Bokuto. Their ace went in for a powerful spike and at the last second, pressed his fingertips gently against the ball for a feint that left Nohebi hissing in frustration. Bokuto’s declining mood and outburst were things of the past now.

“You should have been paying closer attention to _me_!” Bokuto shouted.

With Konoha back in top form, they put more distance between them, point by point. Bokuto had the next serve, and he sent it hastily over the net. Mood swings and outbursts aside, even aces had off-moments. The ball landed right in the arms of Nohebi’s libero, who then sent it to their captain and setter. From there, the ace took the ball and spiked it with all of his strength. It flew over the net, past the blockers, and right towards Konoha. With as much force as Nohebi’s ace used to push through Fukurodani’s block, Konoha had no time to react and raise his arms to receive the ball, or protect his face.

The _smack_ of the ball slamming into Konoha’s nose echoed across the gym, and the ball flew into the stands, far out of receiving range.

As the point was announced for Nohebi, their fans in the stands cheered. The members of the team all bowed apologetically towards Konoha, bent over with both hands pressed to his face. Torii pulled Konoha up by the shoulders to assess his injuries. When he dropped his hands, they were dotted with red; the same color smeared across his upper lip and cheek. The coach rushed out to the court, followed by the manager, Shirofuku, who carried a box of tissues.

“His nose!” Sarukui cried out.

“Those slithering bastards did that on purpose!” Komi snarled.

Keiji replayed the rally in his head. Nohebi’s ace had displayed tremendous accuracy in the match so far; sending it to Konoha had been intentional. They had seen Konoha receive and knew he was more than adequate; they knew the rest of the team was capable of tossing in his place too. To send the ball directly to a player good at receiving didn’t make much sense. He looked to the other side of the court where Nohebi had gathered at the net, making a show of their concern for Konoha. In the back of the crowd, Keiji saw their ace exchange a look with their captain and grin.

“Slithering bastards,” he muttered under his breath, as a voice beside him uttered the same thing. He turned and saw Washio, cursing their opponent with a scowl on his face. Though it wasn’t an uncommon expression for him to wear, something was different this time. Keiji had never seen him with such venom in his eyes. He looked past Washio to the other second years, who were all wearing similar expressions. The whole team had the same look in their eyes. 

The coach and Shirofuku walked back to the bench with Konoha sandwiched between them. He held a fistful of tissues against his face.

“It’s just my nose!” Konoha tried to prove his point by pulling his hand and the bloody tissues away. Blood dripped from his nose. He slapped the tissues back against his face. “I don’t need it to play!”

“You want to bleed all over the court?” Shirofuku handed him a fresh pack of tissues. “What a mess that would make. Who do you think is going to clean that up?”

“Akaashi,” Coach Yamiji called out. Keiji jogged over. “Until Konoha gets checked and cleared, you’re up. Ready?”

Keiji nodded. Adrenaline rushed through him at the prospect of being sent into an official match, along with sympathy for Konoha's face and guilt over feeling excited to replace his injured teammate. He looked at Konoha, who was pressing more tissues to his face. Keiji wanted to say something to assure him that he could carry the team during his absence, but the afternoon that Konoha had expressed his insecurities pushed away any other thoughts. All he could think about was the disappointment Konoha must be feeling. His mind spun until he started to feel dizzy.

"Konoha," Washio bellowed from behind him, halting Keiji’s racing thoughts, bringing the attention of the entire team onto himself. 

Konoha looked up in surprise. "Uh, yeah?"

There was a long pause before Washio said, "we'll get this one for you."

Beneath the tissue, the ghost of a smile appeared on Konoha's face.

Komi reached up to gently pat Washio on the shoulder. "You say that, but... _we_ will be on the sidelines.”

Sarukui poked Komi in the ribs. “He meant we, the _team_ , not him, personally, Komiyan. Don’t read anything else into Washio’s sudden declaration...”

“Konoha-san,” Keiji started and then paused. His teammates had already conveyed what he wanted to say, but Keiji felt like he still needed to say something. He needed to make some type of gesture. Awkwardly, he blurted out, “I could never replace you, Konoha-san.

Konoha raised an eyebrow. “Oh? In that case.” He pulled two fresh tissues out of the pack, rolled them up, and stuffed one up each nostril. “Yukie, I'm good to go back on the court. Don’t worry, I won’t make a mess.”

Shirofuku frowned and patted Konoha on the cheek. “Ooh,” she cooed, “this is worse than we thought. That ball must have done some serious damage; you’re even stupider than before.” With a shooing motion, she guided him towards the door. “Let’s go already, your head’s in desperate need of a check-up.”

On his way out, Konoha clapped Keiji on the shoulder. “You’ll have to stand in for me right now, but don’t worry; it won’t be for long.”

Keiji's fingers itched and he brought his hands together in front of him. If he was going to replace Konoha, he would make sure that Nohebi regretted it.

On the court, Bokuto was waiting with his hands held out for a double high-five. He didn’t need to say anything; the look of determination he wore was enough to tell Keiji exactly what was on his mind. Their hands met and Bokuto didn’t pull away. The heat of his hands soothed the itch in Keiji’s fingers.

“I know it’s not nationals but when we win this match, I think we deserve to celebrate anyway.”

He didn’t need to say anything, but hearing his voice reassured Keiji.

“I agree, Bokuto-san.”

Keiji rotated through the rest of the team, greeting all of them with high-fives and encouraging words. Nohebi had the serve next and their ace was up.

“Don’t worry about this one,” one of Nohebi’s middle blockers sneered and gestured to Keiji. 

The point off of Konoha meant Nohebi was only three points behind them. The serve from Nohebi’s ace was almost as powerful as his up-close spike. Torii managed to receive it and send it to Keiji. Fukurodani’s next point would push them to the 20-point mark. Keiji was going to make sure they took this rally. He sent the ball to the left, placed just where Bokuto liked it, and their ace slammed it down.

“Akaashi!” Bokuto shouted as he ran towards the setter, his hands held up for another double high-five. “I knew it! Your tosses are the best!”

He didn’t have time to say anything before Torii was behind him, ruffling his hair. He did the same to Bokuto and said, “keep it up!” before returning to his position.

Nohebi’s jeers continued.

“If the original setter was shaken up so easily -- “

“Then this first year won’t last long!”

Torii got them another point but Nohebi took the rally after. Their next serve was easily received and when the ball came to Keiji, he sent it to Bokuto. He spiked the ball in a cross shot that Nohebi’s libero barely caught with a one-armed dig, sending it back over the net.

“Akaashi! Again!” Bokuto shouted as their own libero sent the ball to Keiji. Without a second thought, he tossed the ball left. Bokuto took another point.

Fukurodani’s side erupted into cheers once more.

“Can he only send to the ace?” came from Nohebi’s side of the net.

 _Is that supposed to be an insult?_ Keiji thought. Maybe being so close to defeat had exhausted Nohebi of any meaningful barbs, or maybe Keiji’s own self-doubts took up so much space in his mind, no one else’s criticisms could fit. Either way, their insults were no more troublesome than the hiss of a garter snake. But as long as they were going to keep spewing abuse, Keiji would take inspiration from it.

After their serve, Nohebi sent the ball back to them and Keiji sent it to Bokuto. He came up against a formidable-looking block so he tapped the ball against their hands for a rebound. As soon as both feet were on the ground, he was backing out and calling out to Keiji for another toss. So of course, Keiji sent it to him. He blew through the other team’s block for another point.

“Doesn’t he know he has other teammates?”

“Akaashi!” Bokuto shouted over Nohebi’s taunts. “Keep sending the ball to me!”

“Yes, Bokuto-san.”

Nohebi’s libero had enough skill that they hadn’t scored many service aces this set; he maintained that standard for Fukurodani’s next serve. The ball returned to their side of the net and when it came to Keiji, Bokuto called out to him.

“Akaashi! Left! Left!”

Keiji turned his body towards Bokuto and watched three players on Nohebi’s side line up in preparation for a block. He smiled to himself as he twisted his arms at the last second, sending the ball behind him to Torii. Fukurodani’s captain spiked the ball easily into a wide patch of empty court while Bokuto was left slamming his hand into thin air.

Their captain ran towards Keiji for a high-five. Their ace ran towards him wearing a grimace.

“Aw-KA-AH-shee!” Bokuto whined. “I really thought you would send it to me!”

Bokuto pouted as he got into position for their next serve. Shouts of “one more!” echoed on their side of the court. Keiji’s skin burned all over. He clenched and unclenched his fingers, cracked his knuckles one by one. They were at match point. Only one more point. That was all they needed. They were going to win this.

Fukurodani served, Nohebi received, and the ball found its way back to their side of the court, back into Keiji’s hands. On either side of him, Torii and Bokuto called out, desperate to make that final point for their team. On Nohebi’s side of the court, Keiji watched the faces of their players as they tried to guess who he would toss to; the ace he had consistently sent tosses to or the reliable captain? He leaned towards Torii, Nohebi instantly followed, and he struggled not to smile to himself.

As Nohebi leaned towards Torii, Keiji straightened and tipped the ball over the net. At the last second, Nohebi’s ace realized the move Keiji had made and dived to receive it, but the ball hit the court before he could reach it. The whistle blew and Fukurodani was awarded the final point, achieved through a setter dump.

Distantly, he could hear the crowd cheering, his teammates shouting in victory. All Keiji could focus on was the twisted expression on the face of the other team’s ace. For a moment, Keiji caught his eye, and the setter nodded politely before looking away towards the celebration of his own team. As he turned, a blur of white, black, gold, and silver rushed towards him before enveloping him, wrapping itself around him and pinning his arms to his sides. Keiji grunted at the impact as Bokuto lifted him into the air.

“Akaashi!” Bokuto yelled as he set Keiji down. He held onto him still, gripping onto his shoulders and shaking him as he shouted excitedly. “That was so cool! I wish you had sent it to me instead, but still! That was so cool!”

“Thank you, Bokuto-san, but Nohebi had a point with their taunts. You need to practice your line shots.”

“Akaashi…” his grip on the setter loosened. “Your timing…”

  
  
  


The rest of the team crowded around Keiji. Torii gave him a pat on the back with a little too much force and almost knocked him off balance. After a quick apology, they lined up to shake hands before thanking the audience and packing up.

In the hallway, Konoha and Shirofuku were waiting for them. His nosebleed had stopped, but he was holding a pack of tissues, just in case.

“That was so damn cool!” Konoha shouted as he punched Keiji in the arm. “Who the hell do you think you are, showing up your senpai like that? I get knocked out from a nosebleed and then you go and end the game with a _dump_? What the hell! Ugh!” He wrapped his arm around Keiji’s shoulders as he groaned and they began to walk together.

“I wanted to catch them off guard,” Keiji explained. “It seemed the best option in order to secure our victory. They were already so distracted by their own contempt, it wasn’t difficult to do.”

Konoha frowned at Keiji and pulled his arm away. “Akaashi…are you actually an evil mastermind?”

Keiji shook his head. “I only played to the best of my abilities.”

Konoha frowned. “Damn it, I don’t know if it’s just because you took the winning point or if it’s what you said, but you seem so cool right now.”

They followed the rest of the team out to the bus. Bokuto was a little ways away, looking agitated and being trailed by Komi and Sarukui, the purveyors of his turmoil. The two were taking turns leaping into the air, swinging their hand at nothing, and then dropping to their knees and yelling Keiji’s name in a mocking plea.

Keiji stepped onto the bus and took a window seat. Konoha followed, sitting beside him. He sighed deeply and Keiji looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to air his troubles.

“Seriously.” Konoha pressed his fingers into his forehead. “I feel like you could easily steal my starting position from me.”

“I wasn’t trying --”

“And it makes my blood boil!” Konoha fisted his hands and raised them in the air. “I didn’t have enough pride as a setter, I kept thinking about how much better I could do as a wing spiker. And I let it hold me back.”

“Everyone has their off days,” Keiji shrugged. “Everyone’s insecurities get the best of them occasionally.”

“Yeah, it happens, and that’s why we use them as motivation, right?”

Keiji nodded. Before he could say anything else, Bokuto called out to them from the front of the bus.

“Konoha!” He jogged towards their seat. “Your face looks a lot better.”

“Wish I could say the same to you,” Konoha replied. Bokuto swatted his arm.

“Let me sit there.” With a nod, Bokuto gestured towards Konoha’s seat.

“Get lost, I was here first.”

Sarukui popped up behind Bokuto with a grin on his face and gestured to the empty seat beside Washio. “That seat is empty. Why don’t you sit there, Konoha?”

“Shut up, Saru,” Konoha reached his hand out and shoved Sarukui away by his smug expression. “Tell Bokuto to sit there.”

“But I want to sit by Akaashi!” Bokuto whined.

“You can’t sit by Akaashi.” Konoha put one arm around Keiji and with the other, he held his hand up to his face, extending his pointer finger and thumb just under his chin. “These seats are reserved for the pretty setter squad.”

“Like they would let you into the pretty setter squad with that face!”

“But they would let Akaashi in? Are you saying he’s prettier than me?”

“Obviously!”

Keiji was trying to ignore their spat but it was a difficult thing to do while his neck was squeezed between Konoha’s bicep and forearm and Bokuto had just implied he was --

“Akaashi,” Bokuto waved his hands and stomped his feet impatiently, “tell him that he needs to move!”

“Akaashi,” Konoha tightened his grip and jutted a thumb towards Bokuto, “please explain to this chump that he needs to move on.”

“Well -- Konoha-san, your arm…”

“Oh! Sorry.” Konoha gave an apologetic smile as he pulled his arm away.

“Thank you,” Keiji said as he rubbed his neck. “And Bokuto-san,” Bokuto was looking at him with hope and determination in his eyes, and Keiji could tell he was absolutely certain he would agree with him. “Konoha-san is right. You can’t expect others to switch seats according to your whim.”

Bokuto’s face dropped. “Akaashi…”

“You heard him, Bokuto!” Sarukui shouted delightedly as he shoved Bokuto into the empty seat beside Washio. He and Komi sat down in the seat behind them, just in range to continue their derision of the team’s ace.

“Nice one, Akaashi.” Konoha put his fist out towards Keiji. “Pretty setter squad for life!”

Keiji stared at Konoha’s outstretched fist, and then back up at Konoha. He blinked.

“It...seems you still have a lot to learn.” He transformed his fist into finger guns and pointed them at Keiji. “You’re lucky you have such a cool senpai like me to help you out.”

“.....”

“You know...your silence speaks volumes, Akaashi.”

“Sorry, Konoha-san.”

  
  


☆☆☆

  
  


By the time they made it back to school, it was dark out. They had a short meeting before they were all dismissed and ordered to eat well and get a good night's sleep. Bokuto and Keiji began to prepare for some extra spiking practice before they were told off by Torii and forced out of the gym. Before they could get far, the captain pulled Keiji aside.

"You played impressively out there, Akaashi," he said.

Keiji nodded politely. "Thank you."

"I was a little surprised you managed to keep your wits about you. It was a lot of pressure, after Konoha started to lose it, and then being sent in so late into the game...you did well. Better than I expected."

"Um...thank you," Keiji repeated.

The role of captain, Keiji thought, was a good fit for Torii. He fit well in the position of a parental figure. His height allowed him to look down on most others, he loved to lecture, he was fairly stern, and while his words indicated he was sincerely complimenting the setter, Keiji could tell from his tone, his gaze, his posture, and personal experience, that there was something else besides sincerity in his words. Another lesson personal experience had taught him was that their captain could ramble for an extended period of time before he got to his point.

"Is there something you'd like to say to me, captain?" If Torii had some criticism to express, he would prefer to receive it straightforward rather than couched between platitudes.

Torii pressed his lips into a tight line before answering. He was used to Keiji’s bluntness by now. "Yes, there is. Are you interested in a starting position?"

"A...starting position?"

"I’m not offering you anything; that's outside of my purview. I'm just asking: is that something you're interested in?"

"Oh," Keiji breathed. He had to think about it for a long moment before he was able to word a reply. "I want to play, but I don't want to take anything away from anyone else."

“This isn’t about anyone else.” Torii folded his arms across his chest. “The best players should be the ones to play. Do you think you deserve to play?”

Keiji’s fingers dug into the straps of his backpack. Yes, he was adequate. He even considered himself good on some days. But did he _deserve_ it? Was he worthy of playing on the court with the stars? With _his_ star? Did it even matter if he deserved it when it was what he wanted most out of anything in the universe?

“There’s nothing to overthink about,” Torii interrupted his thoughts. “If it’s that difficult of a question, then there’s no point in asking.” He turned to walk away and Keiji’s chest tightened. He grabbed Torii’s elbow and the captain turned back towards him.

“I...want to play with the stars.”

Torii stared at him in confusion for a moment before he said, “good,” and walked away.

Outside the gymnasium door, Bokuto was waiting for him.

“What was that about?” He asked.

“He wanted to talk about the game.”

Bokuto nodded and hummed cheerily. The strap of his bag was stretched across his head, flattening his hair. Keiji wondered if all that weight on his scalp was uncomfortable, but Bokuto often walked like that. He wouldn’t continue if it was uncomfortable, right?

As they began to walk to the station, Bokuto looked up at the night sky and took a deep breath. “Do all the stars look brighter tonight,” he asked, “or is it just me?”

Keiji looked up at the sky. The stars did look brighter. He wasn’t aware of any meteorological reason behind their brightness, but they certainly seemed to shine more vibrantly than usual. Or perhaps their perception of the stars was a reflection of their own mood, tricking their eyes into seeing something as more dynamic than it was. He looked back down to earth, down to the star who walked beside him, and had to blink in quick succession as if he had gone from staring into darkness to being blinded by the sun.

Bokuto looked back towards him and smiled, the smile that made even the sun look like a dull shadow, the smile that made Keiji’s heart tremble.

“I hope,” Bokuto said, “that someday soon, we can play a game together, with both of us as starters.”

Keiji could only nod in response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> u can tell konoha is one of my faves bc i gave him a bloody nose :)
> 
> torii's name comes from the cinerous owl, or amerikafukurou. i couldn't derive any japanese names from this so ended up using the latin name, _strix sartorii_. i had to get pretty creative with some of these names, as you will see in future chapters. i don't speak a lick of japanese but i tried my best to come up with legitimate names! if now or in the future you have any criticisms of my naming techniques, i am all ears.
> 
> big thanks to tumblr user honyakukanomangen for [this post](https://honyakukanomangen.tumblr.com/post/158152191363/japan-mens-high-school-volleyball-calendar) which i referenced many many times while writing (and will make use of for future chapters.) also [this site](https://dibird.com/) where i get my owl facts from.


	3. ep 3.1: it’s about team strength, not individual pride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fukurodani suffers many losses. akaashi notices a pattern.

For the rest of the evening, the rest of the week, the following weeks that turned into months, Keiji’s conversation with Torii occupied a corner of his mind. He realized he was desperate to play. This wasn’t a particularly special or unique feeling; everyone on the team shared that drive. Without that passion, what would be the point of being in the club? Even so, not everyone would have the opportunity. He had been lucky, in a sense, that he was given the chance to play against Nohebi. He had done well. Did that mean he deserved to play?

Whatever the answer, Keiji knew it was inconsequential. The team had a setter, and that wasn’t going to change over a bloody nose or a handful of rallies lost to self-doubt.

He knew that, but the question still lingered in his thoughts.

  
  
  


☆☆☆

  
  
  


"Akaashi! Did you see that?!"

He had seen it. A cicada that had been following them for most of the team’s uphill sprint, taking turns flinging itself at each of them, had ended its assault with one final move: flying straight into the mouth of Sarukui.

Poor Sarukui was gagging, coughing, choking, his hands wrapped around his throat as if he squeezed hard enough he could expel the taste of cicada from his tongue. The bug itself was long gone, flying away before he had the chance to react. One of Bokuto’s hands rested on Keiji’s shoulder, shaking him as he repeated the question; the other was pointed mockingly at Sarukui. Washio patted his back in sympathy while Konoha and Komi each were on all fours, their backs heaving up and down with laughter. The rest of the team was nearby, pointing, laughing, dropping to their knees in fits of delight. Keiji offered the water bottle he was holding to Sarukui.

“As if doing the penalty run wasn’t bad enough.” Sarukui gratefully accepted the water. “I hate summer. Can someone remind me why we do this camp every year?”

Bokuto raised his fist in the air. “To prove to everyone that we’re the best team in Tokyo!”

“That’s what tournaments are for,” Washio corrected.

“That’s also what training camp is for!”

“If that were the case, then what are we proving to them while doing the penalty sprint? How fast we are at going uphill?” Konoha stood and grabbed the water bottle out of Sarukui’s hands. “Or is it to prove how good we are at catching bugs?” Sarukui glared back at him.

“We’re just getting warmed up!” Bokuto shouted as he bounced in place.

Keiji raised an eyebrow. “It’s the last day.”

“Aw-KAA-shee! Every once in a while, just go along with me!”

“But it’s not like we’re doing this for nothing,” Keiji continued. “Losing is a part of training. Learning our enemies strengths and our own weaknesses is necessary in order to grow into a team that can overcome them. The ache in our legs and the taste of cicada on our tongues will motivate us to win the next match.”

Sarukui snatched the water bottle back from Konoha and took a long drink. “That’s as good as motivation’s gonna get for me.”

When Konoha reached for the bottle again, Sarukui slapped his hand away. Konoha slapped his hand in return. In a matter of moments, they were grappling each others’ heads under their arms.

“Akaashi,” Bokuto stared at him in awe, “that was so cool and inspiring. Exactly the type of thing a vice-captain would say.”

Keiji took a step back, startled. “What?”

Sarukui and Konoha each had a hand on the bottle now. Komi crept up from the side and smacked their hands so hard that the bottle flew into the air and straight towards Washio, who caught it with ease.

Bokuto put a hand on his shoulder. “That’s the kind of thing a vice-captain would say!”

“I suppose so.” He knew Bokuto had his sights set on being captain next year, and it seemed as though he, shockingly, had the support of the other second years -- though it was only August, so there was plenty of time for them to change their minds. He knew Bokuto had already decided he was going to be captain, and he had a good guess as to what their future captain was going to say next.

Konoha and Sarukui were each staring intently at Washio, their hands held out expectantly.

“That’s the type of thing you should say when you’re _my_ vice-captain!”

Keiji had guessed correctly.

Ignoring the outstretched hands before him, Washio turned uphill and continued his sprint.

“I think you’re making a few too many assumptions, Bokuto-san.”

With dejected expressions, Konoha and Sarukui followed after Washio. Komi kept up at their side in spite of his laughter.

“No, I'm pretty sure I’ll be captain. And you just said that really cool thing so I'm sure you’ll say things just as inspiring and vice-captain-y next year when you’re the actual vice-captain.”

“I don’t remember agreeing to -- or even being asked if I would consider -- being your vice-captain.” Keiji turned and followed the rest of the team uphill.

“Well, of course you’ll be my -- hey, Akaashi! Don’t go running off without me. Akaashi! Hey, Akaashi, when did you get so fast?!”

  
  
  


☆☆☆

  
  
  


At the bottom of the hill, the team from Shinzen High, who had been the cause of Fukurodani’s penalty, were waiting for their turn at the uphill sprint.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Bokuto shouted as they reached the gym. “You lost already? How does that make us look when you just beat us?!”

“Don’t taunt them when they’ve just lost,” Keiji chided, “it’s in poor taste.” 

“Looks like at least one person on Fukurodani has a sense of decency,” a voice from the gymnasium door called out. A member of Nekoma High’s team, a middle blocker with a dire bout of bedhead, stepped out of the gym.

“Like you’re one to talk, Kuroo!” Bokuto shouted. “You were pointing and laughing at us as soon as Shinzen got the last point! Despite the fact you’ve had to do twice as many penalties as us!” 

“Maybe that’s why I was pointing and laughing! You finally got what was coming!”

“You -- “

“Bokuto-san.” Keiji had already stepped inside the gym along with most of the rest of their team. “We have more games to play, or would you rather spend your time arguing?”

“Akaashi! You’re always running ahead of me!”

Once inside the gym, they found some relief. The ground was level, the sun could no longer beat down on them, and there were significantly fewer flying insects. They hadn’t been subjected to many penalties over the course of the week, but camp wasn’t over yet. As Kuroo suggested, their strength made them a target. The other teams would be more than happy to see them lose. That was even more reason to make sure that penalty was their last.

The next match was between Fukurodani and Nekoma. Ubugawa High’s team rested on the sidelines. Fukurodani had been cycling through its members for each match, giving everyone the opportunity to play with each other against another team. Their current rotation included Keiji and was almost entirely made up of members outside of their starting players. The only regular member in the current rotation was Captain Torii, who played wing spiker.

From the sidelines, Bokuto grumbled, “it’s not fair! I wanted to be the one to beat Nekoma.”

“Cheer up!” Sarukui emphasized his words with a slap to the back that nearly knocked Bokuto off his feet.

“We all want to beat those purring bastards up,” Konoha sneered. “For now, we’ll have to settle for letting our teammates do it for us.”

“I know,” Bokuto balled his fists up at his side, “but I told myself if we win this one, Akaashi will definitely be my vice-captain. So we have to win! And I wanted to be the one to make it happen!”

“Oh, really?” Konoha grinned and ran his hand over Bokuto’s head, breaking his two spiked horns up into several smaller spikes. “Did you hear that, Akaashi?”

Bokuto slapped his hand away and ran his fingers through his hair, setting his two horns back in place.

“Yeah, Akaashi.” Kuroo poked a finger through the net and wiggled it at him. “Did you hear that?”

He did hear it, and he chose to ignore it. He wasn’t going to let Bokuto’s gamble affect his gameplay, one way or the other.

Fukurodani had the first serve. A wing spiker from Keiji’s year, Shima, had the ball. He didn’t have any special serve like a jump floater, but he was consistent and good with his aim. He could provide a strong opening serve.

Shouts of “nice serve!” came from the sidelines. The whistle blew, Shima threw the ball in the air, stepped forward, swung his arm, and missed entirely. The court was completely silent except for the sound of the ball smacking into the gymnasium floor.

“Ah...Aahhh!” Shima cried from the back of the court. He fell to the floor, slapping his hands together and holding them above his head in apology. “Ahh! I missed! I'm so sorry! I can’t believe I missed it!”

“Bahahah!” Kuroo’s laughter echoed across the court. “You didn’t even hit the ball!”

“Don’t mind.” Torii ruffled Shima’s hair before returning to his position.

For the next rally, the ball was delivered from Nekoma’s side with a fierce jump serve that Komi barely managed to dig. Keiji positioned himself under the ball and called out to Tategami, a second year wing spiker. He tried to slap the ball over the net but instead it met Kuroo’s outstretched palm and bounced back to their side. Washio was closest to the ball but his arm couldn’t reach it in time; instead, he kicked his leg out. The ball hit his knee and flew across the net to the other side, past every member of Nekoma, not stopping until it landed well past the out-of-bounds mark.

“...Sorry,” Washio said quietly.

From behind them, Komi yelled, “we’re not playing soccer, Washio!” and slapped him on the back. “But that was a pretty sick move. It looked cool, at least.”

Tategami bowed his head. “No, that was my mistake. Their blockers read me too easily.”

“We did. Super easily!” Kuroo yelled. “You can play Bokuto like a conductor commands their orchestra, but I guess that can’t be said for the rest of your team, eh, Akaashi?”

Keiji turned away from Kuroo's taunts to face his teammates. “Don’t mind him, he’s just trying to get under our skin.”

“Yeah, I am! Is it working?”

“Let’s get the next point.” Keiji held his palms out toward his teammates. Washio and Tategami both nodded and raised their hands for high-fives much more powerful than Keiji anticipated. He wobbled back and forth for a moment before regaining his balance.

The next time the ball came to their side, Keiji sent it to Torii, who sent the ball flying right between Kuroo’s hands. It landed just inside of the line before ricocheting out of bounds. Kuroo scowled at their captain through the net.

Torii smirked. “What’s the matter, did I get under your skin?” The rest of the team crowded around him for high-fives before setting up for the next rally.

The next serve belonged to Huang, a middle blocker and pinch server from Keiji’s year. His underhand serve had given him a nasty reputation in his middle school years, and it served Fukurodani well as he shocked the entire court with a service ace. Cheers erupted from their side of the net.

Relief washed over Keiji, soothing the tension he hadn’t noticed building up inside of him. With two points in a row, they had momentum now. That was the most important aspect of volleyball, grabbing just one point and then maintaining the flow. All they needed was to get one more point. It would sustain and build their momentum and they could keep scoring until -- 

Huang’s next serve hit the net and fell back down onto their side of the court. This time, the cheers erupted from Nekoma’s side.

At the end of the match, as they prepared for their second penalty run of the day, Kuroo jeered at Keiji once more through the net. “Guess Bokuto will have to find someone else to be his vice.”

“Pain in the ass monster cats,” Keiji muttered as he walked away.

“Hey! What was that?!”

“Kuro,” Nekoma’s back-up setter called out from where he sat on the bench, “you’re so loud…”

Keiji nodded at Kozume in gratitude, but the other setter turned away as quickly as their eyes met.

“Akaashi!” Bokuto called out as he ran towards Keiji. “That was really rough to watch.”

“If it was hard for you to watch, how do you think it felt to experience it?”

“Pretty bad,” he said bluntly. He frowned then. “You didn’t lose on purpose, did you?”

Keiji stopped in his tracks to stare at Bokuto. “What would make you think I could ever do such a thing?”

“So you don’t have to be my vice-captain!” Bokuto’s face twisted into a pout.

A pang of confusion, insult, and shame dug into Keiji’s chest. Was Bokuto really accusing him of throwing a game? “Bokuto-san, I would never let one game decide my fate, either way. I promise, I played to the best of my abilities.”

“Akaashi…” Bokuto lifted his arms and rested his hands on Keiji’s shoulders. Then he shook. “Don’t say it so seriously! That makes it look like you really _did_ do it on purpose!”

“Bokuto-san,” Keiji’s voice shook from being yanked back and forth, “I didn’t throw the -- ”

“Of course you didn’t!” Bokuto stopped shaking and instead wrapped an arm around his shoulder, squeezing tightly. “I was just teasing you, I didn’t think you would take it so seriously. But you are Akaashi, so.”

“...Oh.”

“Besides, I don’t need a game to predict our future,” Bokuto continued. “I know you’ll come around eventually.”

“You do?”

“Yup!”

“What makes you so certain?” Keiji asked, out of sincere curiosity.

“Because you’re Akaashi! You always look out for me the most.” Bokuto beamed at him and it almost made Keiji agree before he remembered what they were talking about.

“It must be nice to be so sure of yourself,” Keiji loosened himself from Bokuto’s grip, “but confidence will only get you so far.”

‘ _You always look out for me the most,_ ’ repeated in his head as he jogged ahead to catch up with the rest of their team, and he couldn’t help but smile to himself.

  
  


☆☆☆

  
  


They suffered three more losses that day; one to Ubugawa and Shinzen each and two to Nekoma. Three more uphill penalty sprints that Keiji spent ruminating over his gameplay. At the end of the day, they said goodbye to the other teams and boarded the bus back home.

“Akaashi,” Washio stopped Keiji as he walked down the aisle of the bus, “would you like to sit by me?

From the back of the bus, Bokuto waved his arms as he shouted “Akaashi! I saved you a seat!”

“I'm being summoned,” Keiji gestured to Bokuto and his frantic signals. “It’s probably best if I answer the call.”

“I understand. I thought I should offer in case you wanted to avoid repeating what happened after the Nohebi match.”

“Melodramatics seem unavoidable when it comes to Bokuto-san, but thank you anyway, Washio-san. I apologize about that time. It wasn’t very fair to you.”

“I think,” Washio replied, “I would have been more bothered to be in your position.”

Keiji made his way to the back of the bus, where Bokuto happily offered him the window seat. As Bokuto chatted beside him, he became engrossed once again in pouring over his actions during their lost matches.

Since their first loss to Nekoma, he had felt agitated. His skin was prickling and he felt restless. Keiji understood volleyball; two teams send the ball back and forth over a net, and whoever drops the ball first loses. He understood that logistically, each rally relied on the whole team, and no one person could be held responsible for a loss. He recognized that as a fact. What he also recognized was a pattern in their losses: for all of the games they had lost that day, he had been the setter. Every time his team received the ball, he had been the one to decide where it went next. He had touched the ball the most times during every set he participated in, and they had lost them all. How could he not feel responsible when he was the only consistency in their losses?

“Akaashi?” Bokuto shook his shoulder gently. “Did you notice? We’re back now.”

The other members of the team were all either collecting their bags and jackets or they had already gotten off the bus. He was the only one left sitting.

Keiji blinked as he realized his surroundings. “I must have been distracted.”

“What were you thinking about?”

He briefly pondered on how he would try to explain his thought process to Bokuto before he answered simply, “today’s games.”

Outside of the bus, the entirety of the club huddled together to listen to the coach’s lecture.

“Tomorrow, all of you can rest,” Coach Yamiji said. “Cool off for a day. You deserve it after all of those uphill sprints.” The whole team groaned in unison as the aches in their legs returned upon mention. “In two days,” the coach continued, “we’ll have a practice match against another school.”

“Yes!” Bokuto exclaimed. “Is it against Nekoma?! We owe those cunning kitties a good thrashing!” He then turned to Keiji and whispered, “did I use ‘cunning’ right?”

Keiji nodded and the coach continued. “We’ll be playing a school we haven’t had many matches against, Suzumeoka Academy. So be prepared for anything.”

At the name of the school, all of the second years looked at Keiji with wide, excited eyes.

“Hey, Akaashi,” Komi nudged him in the side, “isn’t that where all your friends went?”

“They weren’t all my friends,” Keiji explained, “we were just on the same team.”

“Ooh, so you were on the same team but you weren’t friends? Ouch,” Sarukui teased, bumping Keiji with his shoulder.

“We were...friend-adjacent, I suppose.”

Coming from behind him, Konoha took his turn to poke Keiji in the ribs. “Only friend- _adjacent_? So you won’t have an issue when we kick their ass?”

“Of course he won’t!” Bokuto answered for him. “He’s our setter now. Right, Akaashi?”

Warmth sprouted inside of him at Bokuto’s phrasing. O _ur setter_.

“Of course, Bokuto-san.”

Coach Yamiji cleared his throat and the team turned their attention back to him. “Since we all have our eyes on Akaashi already, now would be a good time to announce that starting from the Suzumeoka match and going forward, Akaashi will be our new starting setter.”

Silent surprise struck the team until someone shouted “nice, Akaashi!” and the rest of the team echoed it, the nearby members reaching for him to pat his shoulder, slap his back, or ruffle his hair. His ears were buzzing and he couldn’t quite hear what they were saying to him, but they seemed to be words of encouragement. They were congratulating him, but for what? The coach had said something he couldn't process, was that what they were referring to? He felt lost until Bokuto wrapped his arms around his waist, hauled him into the air and waved him back and forth, all while shouting his name.

“Akaashi!” He cried as he set Keiji down. “You really are my setter now!”

His heart jumped at ‘my _setter_ ’ and as it echoed through his mind, he finally realized what had happened.

After the coach dismissed them for the night, Bokuto tugged on Keiji’s arm. “How about we stay late for some spiking -- “

“And no staying late for extra practice!” The coach shouted, cutting Bokuto off. “It’s late. Go home to your families and eat a hot meal.”

“Argh! Fine!” Bokuto frowned. “Let’s get going then, Akaashi.”

“I need to ask the coach something before we leave,” Keiji said. “It should only take a moment.”

Bokuto was still frowning and had his arms crossed over his chest, but he nodded and waited as Keiji walked over to the coach.

“Coach Yamiji?” The coach had been talking to Torii but their attention quickly turned to Keiji as he approached. “May I have a word?”

“You can have a word, or two, or three.” Coach Yamiji smiled. “What’s on your mind?”

Keiji opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. He wasn’t sure what exactly he wanted to say. This was what he wanted, so why was he trying to talk his way out of it? His silence lingered, so the coach asked, “is it about the upcoming practice match? You went to school with some of the kids on that team, didn’t you?”

“I did, but that’s not the issue.” He realized his hands were clinging together in front of him, twisting his fingers and rubbing his palms against each other. He yanked them apart and dropped them to his sides. “I was wondering if I'm the best choice for our team. Konoha-san has been doing well so far, I don’t see the need to replace him -- “

“Replace him?” The coach cut him off. “You’re not a replacement, Akaashi. Konoha didn’t receive that nickname for no reason; he’s good at every position and he makes for a great setter in a pinch, but you’re a better one.”

But, Keiji wanted to say, they hadn’t lost any games with Konoha as the setter that day.

“The most important thing is the strength of the team as a whole,” the coach continued, “not individual pride.”

Keiji knew that was true, but how was he supposed to guarantee the team’s strength when he couldn’t even say he deserved to be on the court?

Coach Yamiji patted Keiji on the shoulder. “I say that, but I'm sure you’re just concerned about your teammate feeling let down, right? Now that he’s able to focus on being a wing spiker again, he’ll be ready to replace Torii by the time the third years have moved on. He may be the jack of all trades, but wing spiker was always his specialty, and I would rather foster talent than stifle it.”

That was a concern of Keiji’s, that Konoha might be disappointed (or worse, feel betrayed), but he had to admit it was in the back of his mind; the forefront was occupied by his own insecurities.

Keiji walked back to where Bokuto, Konoha, and Washio were standing.

“Are you ready?” Bokuto was smiling, his mood noticeably brightened from a few minutes ago. “I'm starving! Let’s get something to eat to celebrate! What about yakiniku?”

“We’re going home.” Konoha frowned; his arms wrapped around his chest as if to protect him from the cold despite how warm it was outside. “I'm exhausted from all the penalty sprints.”

Keiji watched Konoha as he spoke, looking for any disturbances in his expression. What was he thinking? Was he upset with the coach? Upset with himself? Upset with Keiji? All that was evident from his expression was exhaustion. If he felt anything else, it was a mystery to Keiji.

“Fine, party pooper.” Bokuto stuck his tongue out. “What about you, Washio?”

Before Washio could answer, Konoha grabbed him by the arm and pulled him away from Bokuto. “Don’t try and drag him into it! I said _we_ are going home.”

“I thought you meant you and Saru or Komi!”

“They left already, didn’t you notice?”

“Oh.” Bokuto turned to Keiji. “I guess it’s just us, Akaashi.”

“Sorry, Bokuto-san. Maybe another night.”

“Not even for onigiri?!”

Keiji shrugged in apology.

“I guess we’ll all just go home then,” Bokuto sighed.

As he was dragged into the opposite direction by Konoha, Washio waved goodbye. Keiji waved back as he watched them disappear around a corner.

“Doesn’t Konoha-san usually take the train home?”

“Who cares.” Bokuto kicked his foot against the ground.

A fresh bud of guilt blossomed in Keiji’s stomach. “Bokuto-san, do you think Konoha-san -- “

“Man!” Bokuto shouted. “I really wanted to try that new place that opened up by the train station.”

“...Sorry, Bokuto-san.”

“It’s fine! You’ll just have to make it up to me after the next practice. The yakiniku can be your treat,” Bokuto said with a grin. He tugged on Keiji’s sleeve and gestured toward the station. “C’mon, let’s get going.”

As he followed Bokuto, the same insecurities he had brooded over on the bus seized his thoughts, now amplified by the shame he felt at being worried over his own self-doubts more than he was about his teammate’s self-esteem. Bokuto held onto his sleeve, guiding him along the street, to the station, onto the train, and into a seat. It seemed easy for him to keep the conversation going, despite how little Keiji offered, and Keiji was all at once grateful and had the sinking feeling that it was further proof of how useless he was.

The question of _do I deserve this?_ drifted through his mind. He tried to push it away because before, it had only been a distraction, but now, it had taken over his entire consciousness; all he could hear was the question, repeating itself over and over again. It was no longer just a question about volleyball, it was about the star sitting next to him, whose gravitational pull he had been so swept up in that he never before stopped to think of whether or not he deserved to be there; it was a rule of physics, a force of nature, that drew him to Bokuto’s side, something unavoidable that didn’t need to be questioned. At least, that’s what he had thought. But now, he felt more like an invader.

“Hey, Akaashi? Aka-a-shi. Akaashi!”

Keiji blinked as he was finally pulled away from his thoughts. Bokuto was staring at him.

“You’ve been kinda quiet.”

Keiji noted that as something else to feel self-conscious about. “I apologize, Bokuto-san, I'm not much of a -- “

“I told you before!” Bokuto interrupted him. “You don’t have to talk for me to get you. I mean, it’s not like I can read your mind, but it’s easy to tell when you’re thinking too much. This is a dead giveaway.” He gestured to Keiji’s lap.

In his lap, his hands clung to one another, picking at the skin of his nail beds, tugging at anything they could catch. He pulled them apart at once, tried to force them to relax at his sides, but before he could, Bokuto grabbed the hand closest to him.

“They get all fidgety when you’re too in your head. It’s like the harder you think, the more they squirm. Is it uncomfortable?”

“Uh -- no, I don’t -- I usually don’t notice.” Keiji tried to speak; it was too difficult to think about any feeling other than Bokuto’s fingers gliding across the palm of his hand. Bokuto took his hand, turned it palm side up, and laced both of his pinky and ring fingers beneath Keiji’s hand. He pressed his thumbs into Keiji’s palm and pushed up, towards his wrist.

“Does that feel better?”

It did. Keiji never realized how much tension could be held in the palm of one’s hand, but it seemed as though Bokuto had found a way to squeeze it out of him. He let out a breath so deep, it shocked himself.

“You know, your tosses really are the best!”

“Thank you, Bokuto-san.”

“Um...If you’re worried about being the best setter, you just have to train more!”

“You’re right, Bokuto-san.”

With Bokuto’s fingers pressing against his hand, pressing against his wrist, his palm, his fingers, it was almost impossible to form a coherent thought, much less a complete sentence. All he could focus on now was Bokuto’s calloused fingertips rubbing against his tattered cuticles.

A small part of him felt embarrassed that he had been so easy to read. He was ashamed of his insecurities. He didn’t want anyone else picking up on that, least of all his star. But at that moment, those thoughts were completely overshadowed by the hammering of his heart, the pressure in his stomach, and the dizziness in his head. Bokuto had always been more tactile than most; Keiji had grown accustomed to shoulder pats, back slaps, high-fives, low-fives, hair-ruffling, and being lifted into the air without notice. All of those touches had been about camaraderie. None of them had been this intimate. None of them had been like this.

He couldn’t stop thinking about it, couldn’t stop staring at Bokuto’s fingers caressing his, couldn’t stop his heart from pounding. The feeling was so overwhelming that all he could do was close his eyes and press his forehead against Bokuto’s shoulder.

A breathy laugh escaped Bokuto’s mouth, tangling itself in Keiji’s hair. “Are you sleepy, Akaashi?”

He didn’t answer. Even if he could have, he didn’t know what he would say. Instead, he rested his cheek against Bokuto’s shoulder and hid his face in his jacket, waiting for their stop to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **shima** : shima-fukurou or blakiston's fish owl
> 
> this bird was p easy to derive a name from
> 
>  **tategami** : tategamizuku or maned owl
> 
> i googled if there were any real actual people named tategami to see how legit it was and the Only result i could find was a character on beyblades w that name, and you know what? that's good enough for me
> 
>  **huang** : segurokinmefukurou or butt-fronted owl
> 
> huang's name was p hard to come up with but when i saw an owl called the BUTT-fronted owl i had to use it. i ended up using the chinese name for this bird. when i put it into google translate, the romanization of the name came out to 'huáng é guǐ xiāo,' and (according to the v basic google research i did!) huang is the name of several real people, so i figured, if nekoma can have a half-russian kid, fukurodani can have a kid who is some percentage chinese.
> 
> if you're interested in what konoha and washio got up to after they left, you can check out this [companion piece!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29374362)


	4. ep 3.2: a nighttime celebration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a celebration is long overdue, and as bokuto explains, it would be irresponsible to put it off any longer. but you can be anxious at parties, too.

During the walk to Keiji’s apartment, Bokuto was quieter than usual. Keiji wondered if he had simply run out of things to say, but given that he was Bokuto, it was unlikely. Though neither of them spoke for most of the walk, it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. The atmosphere felt vibrant and warm, giving Keiji the impression that if he reached out and touched Bokuto, he would be burning hot. The constant inner turmoil that had tormented him on the bus and on the train was still there, pressing at the edge of his thoughts. For the moment, the heat that Bokuto radiated was enough to dampen it.

Every other time Bokuto had walked him home, they said their goodbyes on the sidewalk just in front of Keiji’s apartment. That night, Bokuto followed him through the small courtyard and up to the door of his apartment building.

“Hey, Akaashi,” Bokuto said as Keiji dug through his bag for his key ring, “do you remember the Nohebi match?”

With his key ring in hand, Keiji looked back up at Bokuto. “Of course.”

“Do you remember your promise?”

“Did I make a promise?”

“Akaashi! You promised we would celebrate.”

“Oh, that.” At first, he was surprised that Bokuto remembered something from weeks ago, but then, he thought, it was even more surprising that he hadn’t brought it up sooner. “What about the new yakiniku place you mentioned earlier? We could go there after practice sometime…”

Bokuto shook his head. “Now we have _two_ things to celebrate. We can’t keep putting it off, that's irresponsible. We need to celebrate tonight!”

Keiji didn’t see the danger in postponing celebrations that Bokuto did, but it was rarely beneficial to try and poke holes in his logic. Bokuto saw the world how he saw the world.

“It’s a little late to celebrate now, Bokuto-san.”

“This will be a nighttime celebration.”

“Oh.” Keiji had felt relatively calm on their walk. Now, his heartbeat was quickening. Bokuto wasn’t making him feel anymore at ease as he leaned towards him.

Bokuto’s eyes glimmered. “Do you want to know what it is?”

“What?” Keiji asked, partially because all he could hear was the hammering of his heart in his ears.

Bokuto raised his fists in the air and rocked back on his heels. “A sleepover!” he shouted.

“You...want to have a sleepover?”

“Yes!”

“When?”

“Tonight!”

“Where?”

Bokuto stared at him. “We’re already at your house, aren’t we?”

Keiji looked at the keys in his hand, then to his building, then back up at Bokuto. The hammering in his ears had dissipated, but he wasn’t feeling any relief. “You want to have a sleepover _here_?”

“Yeah! Didn’t I say that already?”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Bokuto-san.”

“Why not?” Bokuto pouted. “How many times have I walked you home, and not once have you invited me inside.”

“I didn't realize that was the payment you required for your services.”

“Akaashi! Just give up already,” Bokuto said, grabbing the key ring out of Keiji’s hands. “Now, which key opens the door?” Keiji watched Bokuto flip through his keys, hold one up to the door, and then realize there was no lock for the key to go into. His hands paused and his brow furrowed.

The realization that, though they had just spent an entire week sleeping in the same room, his heart definitely couldn’t take allowing Bokuto to sleep in his own home while he was present, had already occurred to Keiji. As he watched Bokuto’s expression shift from fierce determination to utter confusion, it simultaneously occurred to him that for all of his own faults, his greatest weakness was the one standing right in front of him.

“May I see?” he asked, holding his hand out. Reluctantly, Bokuto dropped the key ring into his palm. Keiji picked out a small fob from among the keys and held it up to the sensor on the side of the door.

“Oh, is that what that is? I thought it was a decoration.”

“Some of the amenities here are a bit frivolous,” Keiji confessed.

“Mmhmm, frivalis uhmenidies,” Bokuto repeated, although Keiji had a hunch that Bokuto knew what neither of those words meant.

Keiji opened the door and gestured inside. “After you.”

Bokuto bounced up and down. “The outside already looks so nice! I can’t wait to see what it’s like on the inside,” he said before running through the door.

Keiji walked in quickly after him. “Bokuto-san, please, don’t run.“

“Hey, hey.” Bokuto stopped in the middle of the lobby to look around. There was luxurious furniture, well-tended plants, and classical artwork hanging on the walls. Doors on either side of the lobby led to a gym, a club room, and a long hallway led to various other comforts Keiji had never made use of. He didn’t think much of it since he had lived here most of his life, but the delight in Bokuto’s eyes made him appreciate the decor and conveniences that much more.

“This is pretty nice, Akaashi!”

“I’m glad you think so, Bokuto-san. However, this is a common area; please watch your volume.”

Bokuto pursed his lips and held his pointer finger up to his mouth. “Sorry, sorry,” he whispered as quietly as he was capable. From the opposite side of the lobby, Bokuto watched as Keiji held the fob up to another detector on the wall, calling the elevator.

“Your key ring is kind of boring,” Bokuto commented. “It’s just keys!”

“That’s what it’s designed for. To hold keys.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t add your own flair to it! Add some toys or keychains to it. Make it look fun.”

“I know they’re not exactly exciting, Bokuto-san, but keys have a purpose. I don't think that's boring."

“But it’s not fun, either!”

Before he could ask why his key ring needed to be _fun_ , the elevator doors opened with a soft ‘ding.’ An older woman, a neighbor who Keiji had spoken to several times before, stepped off of the elevator. She greeted him and he nodded politely in return. Then she turned to Bokuto.

“Good evening!” Bokuto said, flourishing his wrist as he bowed deeply. 

  
The neighbor looked taken aback for a moment before she nodded to Bokuto and continued making her way through the lobby. Keiji grabbed Bokuto by the wrist and pulled him onto the elevator before any of his other neighbors could appear.

“Bokuto-san,” Keiji sighed as the elevator doors closed.

“What, was that too extravagant? I was just trying to fit the atmosphere!”

A few minutes later, outside of Keiji’s apartment, Bokuto was once again bouncing with excitement. As soon as Keiji opened the door, he burst into the apartment, ricocheting from room to room, from the foyer to the living room to the kitchen to the bathroom to the dining area and back to where Keiji stood. As he ran from room to room, he shouted comments as soon as they came to him.

“Wow, this place is huge! This couch is so soft! There’s a lot of fancy art on the walls! And that TV is huge! Where are your games? And movies? All I see are books. Do you have any manga? What do you even use the TV for? Your fridge is so big -- oh, it’s almost empty. Where are all the snacks? Your balcony is amazing! Wow, is that your backyard?!”

“No,” Keiji breathed after catching up to Bokuto. He felt out of breath just from watching him sprint across the apartment. “That’s Yoyogi Park.”

“Oh, a park. I guess that makes more sense...” Keiji had a few more moments to catch his breath before Bokuto turned to him. “Where’s your room?”

Keiji’s bedroom had the typical features of a high schooler: a bed, desk, laptop, bookcase. The decorations were less pristine than the rest of the apartment, hanging from tape and thumb tacks rather than frames and nails. His wall decor included cover art from his favorite novels and one owl-themed calendar that he had received upon joining the Fukurodani volleyball club. A desk chair with a t-shirt draped over it was pushed against the window, where a plant box hung from the windowsill. A small table by the window held pots, fertilizer, a watering can, spray bottle, moisture meter, and a variety of other tools and accessories for plant care he had collected. On the opposite side of the room was his desk, upon which sat a stray pair of socks. Across the room, his bed was left unmade. He had been running late the day they left for the training camp, leaving himself no time to tidy up before he left for school.

“Sorry about the mess...”

Bokuto gave him a puzzled look before he began looking around. He investigated Keiji’s bedroom more carefully than he had the rest of the apartment, taking care to poke at every book on the shelves and squint at every poster on his wall.

“I...have never heard of any of these things,” Bokuto declared.

“That’s alright. I don’t think they would interest you, anyway.”

Tucked away in the forgotten corners of Keiji’s bedroom, Bokuto finally found the manga and games he had been looking for. In the back of Keiji’s closet, a console sat collecting dust. On the bottom of the tall bookshelf beside his desk was the twelfth volume of a manga about racquetball that Bokuto had never heard of.

“Akaashi...what do you even do for fun?”

“Mostly, I like to read.”

Bokuto groaned.

"I also like to do crosswords.”

Another groan came from Bokuto.

Keiji gestured to the window. "I’ve tried my hand at gardening several times.” The plants that Keiji gestured to were all dry, discolored, or had otherwise withered away. "I don’t think my thumb is quite green enough for it, though.”

“Your thumb? Green?”

“I mean, I’m not very good at it.”

Bokuto walked over to the window and squatted down in front of it. He squinted at the plants and at all of the tools piled on the table the same way he had at Keiji’s posters, scrutinizing them closely. With a sigh, he stood back up.

“Maybe you’re trying too hard.”

“Living things are delicate, Bokuto-san. They need to be tended to carefully.”

“If you say so.”

Next, it was Keiji’s dresser’s turn to fall under Bokuto’s examination. As he began his work, Keiji felt his pocket buzz. When he pulled his phone out, he saw his mother was calling him.

“Keiji? Did you make it home safely?” His mother’s voice came from the other line.

“Yes, I’m home.“

“Akaashi! You even have books in your dresser?!” As Bokuto looked up, he saw the phone in Keiji’s hand and put his finger to his lips, imitating the gesture he had made earlier in the lobby.

“What was that? The television?” his mother asked.

“No...my teammate asked to visit. He’d like to spend the night, if that’s alright.”

“Oh. Um, I suppose so.”

Keiji hadn’t considered what his mother would say about Bokuto staying over. Her tone worried him. “If you’d rather I send him home -- “

“No, no, Keiji! You surprised me, that’s all. Of course you can have someone over.”

His mother’s approval gave him some relief, but another part of him was disappointed he didn’t have an excuse to ask Bokuto to leave.

“I'm glad to hear you have company,” she added. “I was just calling to tell you I’ll be late again, so don’t wait up for me.”

Once he had finished his conversation and put his phone back in his pocket, Bokuto appeared beside him, his head tilted and arms crossed.

“Was that your mom on the phone?”

“Yes.”

“Ahgahsheee!”

Keiji mentally catalogued this new form of his name. “Yes, Bokuto-san?”

“You called me your teammate!”

“That’s what you are, Bokuto-san.”

“ _Akaashi_ ,” Bokuto said, grabbing Keiji by the shoulders. “I’m not here as your teammate.”

The same feeling of panic that he’d felt outside of his apartment building came over Keiji as Bokuto shook him lightly.

“I’m here as your _friend!_ ”

Keiji furrowed his brow in confusion. It wasn’t always easy to follow Bokuto’s train of thought, but right now, Keiji was having an especially difficult time. “Of course you are.”

“We’re not friend- _adjacent_ , okay?”

“Oh.” Keiji was beginning to see Bokuto’s thought process.

“Do you get it?”

“Yes, Bokuto-san. I think I understand.”

“Good.” Bokuto let go of Keiji’s arms and smiled at him, and for some reason, Keiji felt a pang of rejection, even though he hadn’t confessed to anything, even though there was nothing to confess _to_. Before he could examine his feelings any further, a loud groan came from Bokuto’s stomach and Keiji remembered how desperate he had been to convince their teammates to go out to eat.

“I'm sorry, I should have offered sooner. Would you like to order dinner?”

“Really?!” Bokuto was bouncing again.

Keiji hummed in response. “My mother often works late,” he explained, “and you saw how bare the cupboards are. I end up ordering in frequently.”

“Wow! So you could have yakiniku every night if you wanted to?”

“...I could, yes.”

Keiji left Bokuto in charge of ordering their food while he took a shower and changed. He took a few extra moments in the restroom doing breathing exercises in an attempt to strengthen his heart for the rest of the evening. When he left the restroom and found Bokuto sitting on the floor of his living room, his heart felt just as weak as ever.

Surrounding Bokuto were books that he had pulled off of a bookcase and left on the floor. He was flipping through the pages of a book in his lap, and as Keiji walked closer, he realized it was a photo album.

“Bokuto-san, don’t you know it’s rude to rifle through other people’s belongings?”

Bokuto turned back towards him and his eyes grew wide in alarm. “Akaashi! I forgot you wear glasses.”

“Don’t change the subject,” Keiji said, sitting down beside him. “I don’t remember you asking to look at my baby pictures.”

“How long have you worn them?”

“Two years. How long did it take you to find that photo album?”

“Why don’t you wear them to school?”

“I wear contacts because of volleyball,” Keiji explained. “You saw me wearing these last night, Bokuto-san. You saw me wearing them every night this past week. Why are they so intriguing now?”

Bokuto shrugged, but Keiji had a guess that it was more to do with distracting him from what was in Bokuto’s hands rather than any genuine shock he felt.

“They make you look smart.”

“Did I look dense before?”

“Uh, no, I don’t think so, if ‘dense’ means what I think it does,” Bokuto said, “but they just make you look smarter! Even though you looked smart before.” After that, his attention went back to the album in his lap.

“Mmhmm.” Keiji leaned forward, propped his elbows up in his lap, dropped his chin in his hands, and watched Bokuto react to pictures of his younger self.

“You’ve had the same expression since you were a baby, Akaashi! Did you notice that? Like you’re in hyper-concentration mode. It’s kind of funny. How come there’s only pictures of you? and someone who I guess is your mom. Is it just you two? You don’t have any siblings?”

“It’s just the two of us,” Keiji answered.

“That must be nice,” Bokuto sighed deeply.

“Do you have siblings, Bokuto-san?”

“Ugh! I don’t want to talk about it,” Bokuto groaned. He held the album up and pointed at a picture of Keiji in a school uniform instead. “Is this your middle school graduation?! You were so cute back then! You look so much younger!”

“It was less than a year ago. I’m sure I don’t look that much different.”

Bokuto held the album up to Keiji’s face and looked back and forth between the two of them. “Hmm, I guess I was wrong.” He set the book back in his lap as he smiled at Keiji. “You weren’t as cute then as you are now.”

Heat spread from Keiji’s cheeks across his face and all the way down his neck as Bokuto continued flipping through the photo album as if he wasn’t the cause of Keiji’s chest feeling like it was going to explode. He had been right all along; there was no way his heart could take an entire night of this. He would be lucky if he survived until morning.

A muffled “hoot hoot!” came from Bokuto’s pocket and he pulled his phone out. “Oh, the food’s here!” He said, jumping up with excitement. “I’ll go get it!” He ran through the door and into the hallway. As soon as the door shut behind him, Keiji jumped up.

“Bokuto-san! You need the fob to use the elevator!” Keiji yelled as he chased after him.

  
  


☆☆☆

  
  
  


It was either very late or very early when Keiji’s eyes peeled open. The room was dark, the only light coming from the laptop in front of him. A video was playing, but he couldn’t tell what it was; his glasses had slipped down his face at some point and were resting in his lap. He was sitting on the floor of his bedroom, his back pressed against the bed where Bokuto laid, sprawled out across the sheets, his head inches away from Keiji’s. He had fallen asleep one and a half movies into a series of action films Bokuto had chosen, but he didn’t know how long Bokuto had been asleep. If the volume of his snores was anything to go by, he had been out for a while.

Keiji’s neck ached and his legs were sore from sleeping in an awkward position, his mouth felt hot and dry from falling asleep without brushing his teeth, his face was sweaty from not washing it. He put his glasses back on, closed his laptop, and leaned back against the bed, uncrossing his legs to let them stretch before he stood. In his peripheral vision was Bokuto’s hand, hanging off the edge of the bed. It was almost completely dark now that he had shut his laptop, but he was close enough to make out some detail.

Bokuto’s hand was solid, calloused, surprisingly well-manicured. His nails were all trimmed, even, and his cuticles were neat. Keiji never noticed Bokuto picking at his nails and he drank plenty of water, so the state of his hands should have come as no surprise. He held his own hand up in comparison. While they both bore many callouses, somehow, his looked more dire. Bokuto’s were all aged, firm, smooth skin, while his were fresh, uneven, and peeling in some places. His fingernails were in no better condition; his nails were chipped and uneven, the skin around them torn apart, and he was a constant sufferer of hangnails. He found some pleasure in the realization that his hands were larger than Bokuto’s, thanks to his long fingers.

The disparity between their hands was as distinct as the disparity between their personalities. Maybe that difference was what made them work so well together -- or maybe, Keiji thought, it was his own yearning telling himself so.

He slid his hand against Bokuto’s until their palms were touching, laced his fingers between Bokuto’s until their fingers were locked, clasped them down around Bokuto’s hand until the sensation in his chest became too much to bare and he released Bokuto’s hand, waited until his heart had settled and repeated the movements. This was a training exercise. He would do it again and again until his heart had learned to stay calm, until the sight of their fingers entwined didn’t violently twist his insides into a gordian knot. His heart, it seemed, was a slow learner. Several minutes had passed and he was still dragging his fingers up and down Bokuto’s palm in an attempt to steel his heart, too engrossed in his training to recognize the body behind him shift on the bed.

Until Bokuto’s hand clamped down around his.

“Goshee,” Bokuto said, and Keiji guessed that was a sleep-addled attempt at his name, “that tickles.”

Overcome with embarrassment at being caught, Keiji tried to pull his hand away. Bokuto’s grip wasn’t loosening.

“What’s wrong?” Bokuto mumbled.

“Nothing’s wrong. I‘m sorry I woke you.”

“‘Sokay.” He finally released Keiji’s hand, pulling his arm away to fold it under his head. “Goodnight.”

“Bokuto-san, we didn’t even brush our teeth. Are you comfortable going back to sleep like that?”

“Who’s gonna smell my breath while I sleep?”

“That’s not the point.”

Bokuto didn’t respond. Keiji sat with his head craned towards him, analyzing the silence to determine whether it was worth it to try and convince his ace to get up and brush his teeth. By the time he decided that no, it wasn’t, Bokuto’s breathing had slowed down enough that Keiji realized he had probably fallen back asleep.

“Bokuto-san?” Still no response. “Bokuto-san...can I ask you something?”

The room was silent, completely dark, and it was the middle of the night. Keiji turned around to kneel in front of his bed. Bokuto was barely visible. His salt and pepper hair draped over his arms and caught just enough moonlight to look like starlight itself. He had taken a bath before they started the movie, but his hair looked dry. Testing that assumption was a good excuse for Keiji to run his hand through Bokuto’s hair, like he had done the first time he had attended a second year study session. This time, his hand hovered just beside Bokuto’s head, unable to move any closer. His heart didn’t feel overwhelmed with excitement anymore; instead, it felt like it was dropping into a bottomless pit.

Maybe it was the hour of the night that allowed him to be so vulnerable, or maybe he was that desperate for consolation, but he needed Bokuto to be the one to hear his thoughts.

“Bokuto-san…” He was met with another stretch of silence, and that gave him the courage to go on. “Do you think I deserve to be the starting setter?”

The silence continued, long enough that Keiji began to regret saying anything, long enough that he felt reassured Bokuto had fallen back asleep and missed his question entirely. Tentatively, he moved his hand closer to Bokuto’s head, close enough he could caress a wild lock of hair with the back of his finger. As his finger reached out, Bokuto’s head shot into the air and Keiji yanked his hand back.

“What?!” They said in unison.

How long they sat there staring at each other, Keiji couldn’t guess. Bokuto’s eyes were squinted at him, from confusion, exhaustion, or both. Keiji held his culprit of a hand against his chest, worried that if he let it go there might be some evidence of what it had been conspiring to do that would be immediately visible. 

Finally, Bokuto blinked, and then violently rubbed at his eyes. “What do you mean?”

Keiji couldn’t take it back; there was no point in losing steam now. "I think it was a straightforward question.”

“Of course you deserve it! The coach wouldn’t have given it to you if you didn’t.”

“But it’s not like people always get things because they deserve them. Look at the home I live in; I didn’t do anything to earn this, these just happen to be my circumstances. How do I know _this_ is something I earned?”

Bokuto rubbed harder, digging the palms of both hands into his eyes. "Ugh, Akaashi! You’re saying so much nonsense!”

“It’s not nonsense.”

“This isn’t random! You were chosen because you proved yourself!”

Keiji’s hands weren’t wringing together this time. They groped the front of his t-shirt, pulling and stretching the fabric. “But what if I didn’t?”

“Ah- _gah_ -sheee,” Bokuto groaned. His big golden eyes were frustrated, and confused, and very, very tired. Keiji realized he was the cause behind those ailments. A wave of pity washed over him briefly for Bokuto, who had to deal with him in this state -- but only very briefly, for he soon realized that he was the much more pitiable one out of the two of them. How pathetic he must seem, begging for consolation in the middle of the night.

With frustration still creasing his brow, Bokuto reached his hand out towards Keiji. The back of his hand smoothed over the skin of Keiji’s jaw, his knuckle jutted out to nudge his cheek. Keiji turned his head automatically, towards Bokuto’s touch, and as he did so Bokuto twisted his hand and squeezed his fingers, pinching into the meat of Keiji’s cheek.

“Bokuto-san, that hurts.” Keiji lifted his hand up with the intent to swat Bokuto’s away, but Bokuto’s grip loosened before he could. Instead, he rested his hand against Bokuto’s.

“Lay down already.” With his free hand, he patted the empty space in the bed beside him. "You’re only saying weird things because it’s so late.”

"I am not,” but he couldn’t argue more than that. He never would have found the courage to say it so directly during the day. Without a rebuttal prepared, all he could do was obey Bokuto’s instructions and climb onto his bed. Bokuto’s hand never dropped from his cheek, though that may have been due to Keiji’s hand holding it in place.

He followed Bokuto’s example and laid down facing the wrong direction, only mildly disturbed that two sets of feet were now laying against his pillows. Bokuto finally pulled his hand away but brought Keiji’s with it. He held their hands between the two of them, just like how he had on the train, tracing circles into Keiji’s palm with just enough pressure to make his heart feel like it was going to burst. In the absence of Bokuto’s hand, there was a tingling sensation left on his cheek. He couldn’t tell if it was from the loss of contact or trauma from the pinch.

They were laying on their sides facing each other; Keiji couldn’t take his eyes off of their hands between them, but he could feel Bokuto’s gaze fixed on him.

“Does that feel better?” Bokuto asked. Keiji nodded. "Good! Now, can you do me a favor?”

“...That depends on what it is.”

“It’s easy! Just repeat after me. Don’t give me that look, Akaashi. Just go along with it!”

Whatever Bokuto was planning, Keiji had a feeling it wouldn’t be something as simple as he claimed. Despite his doubts, he nodded. "I’ll go along with you.”

“Okay. Now, say, ‘I am the _best_ setter Fukurodani ever had.’”

Keiji didn’t respond. He pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek to test if the pain was still there. It stung, though it was barely noticeable. What was obvious and unavoidable was the pair of golden eyes staring at him.

“Akaashi…”

"I don’t want to say that, Bokuto-san.”

“Why not?”

“Because we lost every game that I participated in today.” Saying it out loud made him feel like he was going to choke. He swallowed, trying to force the feeling to subside.

“It really was rough to lose so many times,” Bokuto admitted, “and we did lose a lot more than usual. But it’s not like your tosses were bad.”

“It was only the games I played in that we lost. What other explanation is there?”

“Akaashi...are you pouting?”

"I am not.” He passed his free hand over his mouth, trying to force his lips to relax.

Bokuto grinned at him. His hands stopped massaging Keiji’s palm and pulled it closer, wrapping his arms around Keiji’s until his hand was pressed against Bokuto’s chest. He suddenly realized how cold he was now that his forearm was being squeezed against Bokuto, who was always burning up. The warmth emitted by Bokuto had the same calming effect as his fingers digging into Keiji’s palm.

"I don’t know, but aren’t there a whole bunch of things that could go wrong? I'm sure whatever it is, we can fix it with enough training.”

“So...you don’t think it was my fault that we lost?”

“No, I don’t, but does it matter what I think when you’re the one who’s been thinking about it so hard all this time?”

As Bokuto said it, Keiji realized he was right. Bokuto could console him, but he could never convince him. No one could do that when the only thing Keiji felt truly confident in was his insecurities.

“Will you do me that favor now?”

Keiji grimaced, and sighed, and Bokuto grinned the way he did when he knew he had won.

“Now, repeat after me: I am the _best_ setter in Tokyo.”

“That’s not what you said before…”

“Akaashi! No arguing. Now, say, ‘I am the best setter in Japan.’”

Keiji opened his mouth to contest, but before he could say anything, Bokuto cut him off.

“It’s only gonna level up every time you argue with me,” he warned, "even if you pout!”

Keiji covered his mouth with his hand once more. "I don’t pout, Bokuto-san.”

“Mmhmm. Okay, let’s start over. Repeat after me: I am the best setter Fukurodani ever had.”

“I...am the best...setter...Fukurodani...has ever had.”

“Good! Now say, ‘my tosses are the _best_.’”

“My tosses are the...best…”

“ _I'm the best setter!_ ”

"I am...the...best setter.”

“ _And my tosses are the best!”_

“And my...tosses...are the best.”

“ _I'm the best setter and my tosses are the best!_ ”

"I am the best setter...and my tosses are the best.”

“ _I'll always send the ball to Bokuto no matter what!_ ”

“Bokuto-san,” Keiji frowned.

“Fine,” Bokuto sighed, "I guess you don’t have to say that one since you already save the best tosses for me.” He squeezed the arm still trapped against his chest and gave Keiji another one of his trademark grins. It shone through the room despite the darkness, and Keiji felt the warmth from Bokuto’s chest spread from his hand, down his arm, into his chest, and through the rest of his body. His hand found Bokuto’s and squeezed back.

“Thank you, Bokuto-san. I’m glad you decided to stay the night.”

“You’re my setter! I wasn’t going to just leave you alone.”

“And you're my ace,” Keiji said, and Bokuto’s smile grew even more brilliant.

For all of his concerns over his weak heart, it was finally starting to feel settled. It didn’t matter what self-doubts he had; he was Bokuto’s setter. All he had to do was get him the ball. All he had to do was allow him to perform at his very best. That was all he had to do. It was so simple, that was all there was to it.

“Now we only have to say it one hundred more times before we go to sleep! Are you ready?!”

He lost count after twenty-five. Soon after, they both fell back asleep, their arms still entwined.

  
  


☆☆☆

  
  


"Akaashi! Wow, it's been a while!"

The Fukurodani team stood in line to greet Suzumeoka’s team as they arrived on the day of the practice match. As the two teams separated to do their warm-ups, one member of the opposing team greeted Keiji. 

"Miyama," Keiji said with a nod. "It's good to see you."

"So." Miyama leaned in closer. "Which one is it again?"

"Which one...?"

"You know," Miyama dug his elbow into Keiji's side. "The _star_ player."

"Oh, you mean Bokuto-san. He began warming up already, right over there." Keiji pointed off to the side where Bokuto was doing a handstand. His shirt had slipped down, covering his face, and Konoha had paused his own warm-ups to point and laugh. Washio was staring with concern.

"That's him, huh?" Miyama raised one eyebrow.

"That's Bokuto-san."

"You always did have weird taste," Miyama shrugged. Keiji's lip twitched as he held back a frown. "I think after today's game, you're gonna regret choosing this school. My team is pretty strong."

Before Keiji could respond, two sets of hands grabbed him by the shoulders.

"You messing with our setter?!" Komi's voice said from behind him.

"Maybe just a little," Miyama teased.

"Nobody picks on Akaashi," Sarukui’s head pooped up from the side, "except for us."

"It's alright, really," Keiji tried to explain, "we know each other from -- "

"Akaashi, please." Sarukui covered his mouth with a hand. "Don't let this scamp bully you just because you knew each other in another life."

"It's fine." Miyama raised his hands in front of him. "I'll leave him alone. You’ll see how strong our team is on the court." He grinned before returning to his teammates.

Komi and Sarukui gave him a dirty look as he walked away. Once he had returned to his side of the court, they turned to Akaashi, each wearing equally mischievous smiles.

"Do you have a moment, Akaashi?" Komi asked.

They didn't give him the chance to answer. He was shoved towards the far end of the gymnasium, where the ball cart was. Beside the cart stood Konoha, shifting back and forth on either foot, his hands hidden behind his back. Keiji was directed to a spot in front of him while Komi and Sarukui held onto him as if their grip would hold him in place.

“Hello, Akaashi,” Konoha said, his face wearing a solemn expression.

“Hello, Konoha-san.”

Konoha sighed deeply. "So, about the other day…”

The other day, Keiji presumed, meant the evening he had been made the starting setter. Konoha had left so abruptly that in any other circumstance, he would have been worried about his teammate. He had been so preoccupied by his own anxieties that he had barely given Konoha’s a thought. Now that he had settled most of his doubts, he had found the space in his thoughts to worry over his teammate, how he felt about losing his position, how he felt about Keiji taking it from him. Was Konoha disappointed in himself? Did he hold any resentment towards Keiji?

“Sorry I...basically ran away from you after the training camp,” Konoha began. "I may have been acting like -- “ from a short distance away, Washio cleared his throat loudly as he and Bokuto continued their warm-up exercises -- “okay, I was _definitely_ acting like a giant baby. I was jealous and sulky and acting extremely uncool and I didn’t want my talented level-headed kouhai to see me like that, so I ran away, alright? I'm not proud of it, but that’s what happened.”

“Does this mean...you're not upset with me?“ Keiji asked.

Sarukui and Komi both slapped him on the back.

“You’re worried about this blockhead being upset with you?” Komi asked.

“Akaashi,” Sarukui said, “that is precious.”

“I was a little...disappointed, to say the least” Konoha said, ignoring their teammates. “But, I make a better wing spiker anyway.” His reaction was much more composed than Keiji had been expecting. It wasn’t that Konoha had ever held a grudge against him, but Keiji hadn’t imagined he would take it with such ease either. “To make it up to you,” Konoha continued, "I have something for you. To celebrate you becoming our official setter.”

“A gift? I didn’t realize we gave gifts to starting members. Should we arrange to get something for the other starters as well, or -- “

“This isn’t a normal gift,” Sarukui explained.

“It’s a _relic_ ,” Komi added.

Keiji looked back and forth between the two of them, who shared a familiar-looking grin, and sighed. Komi gestured to the ground in front of him, Sarukui nudged his shoulders, and Keiji wished he had formed the habit of wearing knee pads as he kneeled on the ground.

From behind him, Konoha pulled out a volleyball and held it out to Keiji. "I pass unto thee this sacred volleyball, bequeathed to whomever the current setter is -- in this case, you.”

“Sacred volleyball?” Keiji eyed it with bemusement.

“Passed down for countless generations,” Sarukui said.

“This volleyball has been on the Fukurodani team since the dawn of time.” Komi flourished his wrist and it reminded Keiji of the bow that Bokuto had given his neighbor.

“Countless generations? Since the dawn of time?” Keiji’s eyes grew wide. "How venerable.”

“I'm glad you understand the sanctity of this ceremony.” Konoha nodded toward the ball and Keiji held his hands out. "Now,” he dropped the ball in Keiji’s hands, “the ceremony is complete. You are officially Fukurodani’s starting setter.”

Keiji hugged the ball to his chest and bowed his head. "Thank you, Konoha-san. I’ll cherish this volleyball for the rest of my high school career.”

As he sat there with his head bowed, Komi nudged Sarukui and whispered, “he wasn’t this serious about the onigiri ceremony.”

“Does he know it’s a joke?” Sarukui whispered back.

Komi waved Bokuto over. "Hey, Bokuto. Can you tell if Akaashi is in on the joke or not?”

“Definitely!” Bokuto proudly held his thumb out.

“Okay,” Sarukui said, "so tell us. What is Akaashi thinking?”

“Easy.” Bokuto looked Keiji up and down. Keiji looked back up at him and watched his scrutinization take place. "Akaashi!”

“Yes, Bokuto-san?”

“Are you joking? Or are you for real?”

A chorus of hands smacking against foreheads rang around them.

Keiji stood up. "I take this very seriously, Bokuto-san.”

“Oh.” He frowned and turned to Komi and Sarukui, “He’s not joking.”

“Bokuto-san?”

“Yeah?”

"I was joking.”

“Oh.” Then he smiled. "Haha! You got me, Akaashi!”

“Somehow,” Konoha rubbed his chin thoughtfully, “it’s kind of creepy when Akaashi makes a joke.”

With the ceremony complete, they finished their warm-ups. As Torii and Suzuemeoka's captain flipped the coin to decide who would serve first, Keiji's skin itched with excitement.

From the other side of the net, Miyama called out to Keiji. He pointed over his shoulder to the rest of his team with a grin. "Don't be too upset when we beat you, okay?" Keiji grinned back.

Suzumeoka took the first serve. The ball sped towards them but Torii flung his arm out just in time to send it back into the air, straight towards Keiji. Bokuto called out to him, but it was unnecessary. There was nowhere else he would have sent this first ball.

The ball flew in a narrow cross shot just between the opposing team's middle blockers and the net. Miyama, one of said middle blockers, scowled. Keiji smirked at him. "You might have a strong team, but I have a team made of stars."

From the sidelines, Konoha groaned. "Akaashi is saying weird things again..."

"Hey, hey, hey!" Bokuto cheered as he ran towards Keiji, giving him a double high-five that left his hands stinging afterwards. "Akaashi! I thought of how we should celebrate once we beat Suzumeoka today."

“Another celebration? It’s only a practice match.”

“We should celebrate every victory. They all matter!”

"That was only one point!" Miyama cried. "Don't get so full of yourself just yet."

"That was only the first point," Keiji corrected. "Alright, Bokuto-san. We'll celebrate after we win this match."

"Yes!" Bokuto shouted. "Let's go to a pool! Before summer ends! Then I can show off my dive."

Keiji tried to imagine the team going to the pool. He imagined them all slipping on tile in front of a ‘no running’ sign, banging their heads against the bottom of the pool after diving into the shallow end, dropping their lunches into chlorinated water before scooping them out and finishing their meals, but Bokuto was smiling so brightly and the rest of the team was nodding in approval.

“Just remember to pack sunscreen, Bokuto-san.”

“Good call! I forgot to bring it last time. I got the nastiest burn!”

Keiji made a mental note to purchase extra sunscreen.

"If you spend the whole game planning how to celebrate our victory," Torii called out, "we'll never be able to actually achieve that victory. Get back into position already." Bokuto, who was up to serve, sulked away to his spot. Torii gave Keiji a pat on the back as he took his own position.

From his own spot, Bokuto shouted. "Akaashi! We could use the pool at your place!"

“You have a pool?!” Sarukui and Komi shouted in unison.

"On second thought," Keiji muttered to himself, "maybe I should throw this match."

"Akaashi!" Bokuto shouted. "What did you just say?!"

“Nothing, Bokuto-san. Let’s get the next point.”

  
  


☆☆☆

  
  


A week later, the team met at a public pool far away from Keiji's apartment. Bokuto forgot to pack sunscreen, but Keiji had brought enough for everyone. His skin was left unmarked. In the end, the sun got him anyway, through heat stroke from getting overexcited. After Bokuto recovered, Keiji mentally chided himself for not preparing for that to happen. He would have to make sure and prepare for _every_ possibility at the celebration for their next victory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **miyama** : miyamashitodo or white-crowned sparrow. had to give him a sparrow name since suzumeoka is the sparrow school


	5. ep 4.1: never leave your phone unlocked around the team's ace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> to bokuto’s dismay, akaashi makes alternate study plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer: this chapter is very oc-heavy :)

Keiji was woken by the sound of owls.

He blinked, disoriented, sleep fresh in his eyes. There weren’t any birds in his room, as far as he was aware. He pried himself from the warmth of his mattress, sat up sluggishly and squinted into the darkness. Nothing appeared that hadn’t been there when he fell asleep. The sound had felt so real that it jolted him awake; could it have simply been a phenomenon of his subconscious?

He laid back down and pulled the blanket up to his chin. From what he could tell by glancing outside, it was still early. There was enough time for him to sleep for at least another hour or two before he had to get up for the day. The sound of hooting still haunted him, echoing through his mind as he rolled onto his side and squeezed his eyes shut. It was so realistic, even the memory of it felt as if there was an owl right at his ear -- 

And then Keiji noticed the buzzing sound that accompanied the noise, and his eyes shot back open. On his bedside table, his phone was vibrating and hooting.

Since when did his phone hoot?

The brightness of his phone stung his eyes. He squinted through it to read ‘ _Captain Bokuto_ ’ but wasn’t awake enough to register what exactly he had read, besides recognizing Bokuto’s name. Sleep distorted his greeting once he picked up the call.

“...Akaashi? Are you there?”

He cleared his throat before responding. “Yes, Bokuto-san, I'm here. What is it?” From the other end of the call, silence stretched out to him. He pulled the phone away, checking his screen to make sure the call hadn’t been disconnected, and then put the phone back up to his ear. “Bokuto-san?”

“...Yeah.”

“Is something wrong?”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

Keiji rubbed his eyes as he breathed out an “ah.” He’d had trouble falling asleep as well. “That must be rough, Bokuto-san. Would you like to talk about it?”

“Not really...”

Another stretch of silence passed.

“Is there anything I can do to help you?”

Almost no time passed before Bokuto answered.

“Would you practice with me? Now?”

Again, Keiji pulled his phone away. Again, he squinted at the screen, trying to decipher its content. It read four-thirty in the morning. He rubbed his eyes and checked again. It was still four-thirty in the morning.

“Bokuto-san, it’s four-thirty in the morning.”

“...I couldn’t sleep.”

Keiji blinked, and blinked again. It was four-thirty-one in the morning. The second years and Keiji would have a study session after school, like they would do for the rest of the week up until exams, which meant he would have to do his own studying once he was back home. If he got up now, he would surely be too tired to do any independent work. But going to sleep earlier would mean he might wake up earlier the next day, and if he got up earlier tomorrow he could use that time to study -- but then he would run into the same problem the next night, and he already had such a hard time getting up on time as it was...

“Akaashi?” Bokuto cut through the racing of his mind. “Please?”

It wasn’t a question anymore. Keiji couldn’t not agree.

“Should we meet at the station?” He would have to make sure and get some of his own studying done at the second years’ session.

“I'm in front of your apartment.”

Keiji sat up in alarm. “You’re here? Already?”

“I’ve been here a little while.”

Keiji jumped out of bed, pulling his bedding with him. Still tangled in his sheets, he hopped towards his dresser and started pulling out clothes. “Would you like to come inside while you wait? I wish you hadn’t come all this way -- I can be downstairs in two minutes to let you in, hold on -- ” 

“No, it’s fine. I'll wait outside. Just hurry, okay, Akaashi?” and then he hung up.

Keiji stood there, the phone still pressed against his ear, as he pondered over what Bokuto had said. The way he had said Keiji’s name for the past two weeks had been growing more and more distant from anything he recognized. For all the studying he had done, he considered himself an expert in the language of Bokuto Koutarou by now. Most of the time, it came easy to him, like having read your favorite book so many times that you already know what the next line will be. Ever since their loss to Kawahori at Nationals two weeks ago, Bokuto had been in a depressed state. The more they practiced, the more he was able to refine his line shot, the more he had begun to return to his usual self. Now, with exams less than a week away and practice on hold until after the examination period, he no longer had that comfort to assure himself that he was improving.

For now, it was up to Keiji to reassure him.

  
  


☆☆☆

  
  


Outside of his apartment building, Keiji adjusted his glasses as he glanced around the courtyard. The topiary provided some cover if Bokuto was to sit behind it, and there were a few benches he could be sitting on (or under). As Keiji looked around, none of the viable spaces seemed like somewhere Bokuto would hide and mope. He pulled out his phone, looked up Bokuto’s contact information, and called him as he began walking down the path to the street. It wasn’t likely Bokuto would pick up, but that wasn’t Keiji’s intention. Bokuto’s ringtone was always on at full volume; he planned to find Bokuto via sound

While walking through the small courtyard, he could hear the ringing from his end, but that was all he heard. As he reached the street, he looked around the block. There were a few houses and another apartment building next door to his. He walked towards the neighboring apartments and as he passed the space between the two buildings, he heard a soft, distant ‘ _hoot hoot_.’

Tucked between the two buildings was a playground, a newer feature that had only been added to the neighborhood once Keiji was too old to fully enjoy it. He turned into the small park and the hooting grew louder. There was a slide, one set of swings, a dome-shaped jungle gym, and some other structures to climb and ride on. The lampposts on the street didn’t give quite enough light to illuminate the park, but they offered just enough for Keiji to make out a silver-haired figure in the center of the jungle gym, sitting on the ground with his knees tucked under his chin.

Keiji hung up the phone, walked up to the play structure, and climbed inside of it. He sat down next to Bokuto in the same position.

“Good morning, Bokuto-san." The only response Keiji received was Bokuto slouching down enough to lean his head against Keiji’s shoulder. "I woke up in a strange manner this morning. My phone hooted at me.” Bokuto was still silent, but he shifted against Keiji. “And when I looked up your contact information, your name had been changed to ‘Captain Bokuto.’ Isn’t that odd?”

"...I don’t think it’s _that_ odd.”

“It was odd enough.”

Bokuto was silent. And then, “your old ringtone was boring. You had the standard one and you would never change it!” Bokuto’s tone had some of the petulance Keiji was used to. He was happy to hear it.

“So you admit, you went through my phone without permission?”

“Akaashi, don’t be mad!”

“I'm not mad.”

“You seem a little mad.”

“I'm not mad, I'm disappointed.”

“Akaashi! That’s even worse!” Keiji smiled to himself but straightened his face as Bokuto pulled away to look at him. Bokuto’s eyes searched up and down, narrowing with focus as he tried to make out Keiji’s expression. "I can’t tell if you’re serious or not.”

If Bokuto was unsure, let him be unsure. Teasing him helped to lighten both of their moods.

“Where did you want to practice this morning?” Keiji asked. “The gym is locked, but maybe we could find enough space on school grounds to move around.”

"I got the key from the captain yesterday,” Bokuto said. He was still watching Keiji’s face as he pointed to his own. “You’re wearing your glasses today.”

“Yes, it was a little too early to fuss with contacts. Besides, there’s no formal practice. I thought it would be fine, if it’s only for today.” He fidgeted with his glasses, feeling self-conscious suddenly. “You said you got the key from the captain already? You could have given me a warning about practicing this early.”

"I didn’t plan on asking you to come. I thought I would practice on my own, but when I left my house, somehow, I just...ended up here.” Bokuto’s voice was beginning to sound distant again, like he was drifting away at sea and Keiji was stuck on shore. Bokuto was still looking at him, no longer watching as much as he was staring into space, and Keiji finally noticed that his hair wasn’t done up in its usual spikes. He reached out, wanted to touch it, to run his hands through it. He let his hand hover in the air instead, gesturing towards it.

“Your hair is down.”

“Yeah. I guess it was a li’l too early to mess with my hair.” Bokuto turned away, tucked his knees back under his chin. Keiji wondered, was he drifting away again? And how long would it be until he floated back to shore?

“Bokuto-san?” Bokuto turned his head, pressed his cheek against his knee as he looked at Keiji. What he wanted to say was, 'we've lost games before. Your cross shots have been blocked before. Why did losing to Kawahori affect you so much more than the others?' But he knew the answer. It affected him more because it did. This was Bokuto, who felt what he felt without questioning why. What was the point of invalidating his feelings to challenge that? Instead, he said, “shall we get going?”

He stood up and held a hand out to Bokuto. As he leaned forward, his glasses slid down his nose. Once Bokuto was standing, he reached out with both hands and adjusted Keiji’s glasses back into place.

"I like seeing you in your glasses,” Bokuto said. “It’s like a treat, or a secret, since you don’t usually wear them. ‘Cause you only wear them at home, it feels kinda...cozy, or something, y’know?”

“Even though you’ve seen them so many times already? You’ve stayed over at my house enough times now that I thought you would have gotten used to the sight.”

“That’s true,” Bokuto said. His hand was lingering beside Keiji’s face. It travelled up the arm of his glasses and tucked a strand of hair behind his ear before he let it fall back down to his side. “It’s just nice to see you in them, no matter how many times I've already seen it”

The chill early morning air that had been biting at Keiji's cheeks was abated by the warmth that spread across his face. For lack of anything better to do, he lifted his hand up to his glasses and readjusted them, even though Bokuto had put them into place perfectly. How did he reach out and touch Keiji so easily, so confidently, so casually? That was what he wanted to say about Bokuto’s hair being down, that it was a treat, that it felt cozy, that he liked seeing it but also liked how rare it was, and how that made it that much more special. That was what he wanted to say. What left his mouth was, “they’re only glasses, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto frowned. "I know, but still." He climbed out of the play structure, turned back, and held a hand out for Keiji. He stared at Bokuto’s hand, thinking, again, of how easy reaching out was for Bokuto, of how he couldn’t do anything but stare at his outstretched hand even though he had just as easily held his hand out to Bokuto moments ago, of how he felt trapped in this inane cycle of thoughts. Bokuto wiggled his fingers. “Akaashi?”

Keiji shook his head, attempting to shake out all thoughts. It didn’t work, but he was able to accept Bokuto’s hand and climb out anyway. They left the park, walked down the street, past Keiji’s apartment building, and toward the train station.

“I'm glad you agreed to come,” Bokuto said. "I was worried I might not be able to wake you up. That new ringtone really did the trick.”

“Hmm,” Keiji hummed disapprovingly. “I'm glad I could come too. Anything to help my ace, after all.”

That granted him a smile from Bokuto. A small grin, soft but brilliant and bright enough to light up the whole street. His heart fluttered at the realization that what he had said was completely true; he would do anything he could to help Bokuto.

  
  


☆☆☆

  
  


He would do anything for his ace, which is what he kept repeating to himself while they studied at Washio’s house that afternoon.

“Ah-ga-aw-shee,” Bokuto moaned, hitting his forehead against Keiji’s shoulder. As soon as Keiji had opened one of his textbooks, Bokuto’s head slumped down against his arm. For an hour, they had been sitting at the table in Washio’s bedroom, and for an hour, Keiji had tried and failed to do his own studying so many times he had lost count. It was almost as if the bending of a book spine triggered a defeated sigh to come from Bokuto.

“Yes, Bokuto-san?”

"I don’t get this problem!”

"I keep telling you this, but neither do I. I'm not in your class, or your year, remember?” 

"I know that…”

Keiji gestured to Konoha, who sat on the opposite side of Bokuto. “Why don’t you ask Konoha-san?”

Bokuto pushed his face further into Keiji’s arm. “Akaashi is nicer and a better teacher...and your grades are better than his.”

Konoha glared at Bokuto and swatted him on the back with a rolled up workbook. Bokuto yelped, spun around, and Konoha wrapped his elbow around the back of Bokuto’s neck and pulled him flush against his side. “I'm the nicest teacher you ever had! I'll teach you how to do this problem if it kills me.”

Keiji made it through a whole page of his history textbook before Bokuto shouted, “there are things I understand and things I don’t! And I don’t understand any of this!”

On the other side of the table, Komi and Sarukui snorted at Bokuto’s outburst.

Konoha released Bokuto, shoved him towards Keiji, pointed to his workbook, and said, “just try your best!”

A minute passed before Bokuto once again turned to Keiji. “Why don’t we practice spiking instead?” Keiji stared at Bokuto over his glasses. Bokuto sighed and turned back to his workbook. Another minute passed. “Akaashi, what are you studying?” Keiji sighed and turned to Bokuto to scold him once more.

The session continued like that until it grew dark and they all returned home. It was, admittedly, not much different from their usual study sessions. Bokuto would do anything to avoid actual studying. While Keiji never got a significant amount of work done, he had usually managed to finish a chapter or two of a textbook or a few pages out of a workbook. That day, he hadn’t been able to read more than a few pages and had hardly done one problem.

As they usually did, Bokuto and Keiji took the train together and walked to Keiji’s apartment from there. All the while, Keiji planned out his evening. He was already exhausted enough to go straight to bed, but he couldn’t dislodge a pang of anxiety from not being able to get any proper studying done that day with exams so close. If he could just stay up a little bit longer, he could get something done. He could drink some coffee or an energy drink -- though that would undoubtedly make it that much harder to fall asleep later. He could take a textbook into the bath, though that introduced the danger of ruining a resource he needed. Studying while he ate seemed like a relatively safe option, as long as he chose something that didn’t spill easily or stain.

As they turned onto Keiji’s street, he asked, “will you be practicing early tomorrow, Bokuto-san?” Whether or not Bokuto would make another early morning call determined how late it was safe for Keiji to stay up.

“Maybe…Probably...” There was something unspoken in Bokuto’s following silence. Keiji waited, allowing him to decide for himself when he was ready to finish his thought. As they reached the path that led to Keiji’s apartment, Bokuto continued. “Wouldn’t it be easier, since we’ll be meeting in the morning anyway, if I just stayed here?”

All of Keiji’s plans for studying stuttered to a halt at Bokuto’s request. Academically speaking, there was no hope if he was to spend the whole evening with Bokuto.

“I was going to do some studying,” Keiji explained.

“I'll be quiet!” Bokuto promised, a promise Keiji was fully aware he was incapable of keeping. “And I think I can sleep easier if you’re with me.” He grabbed Keiji’s hand, rubbing it between his. His eyebrows turned up and his lower lip jutted out. “Please, Akaashi?”

There was nothing he wouldn’t do for his ace.

“If you’re going to borrow my clothes again, you can’t complain about how small they are or anything that’s written on them.”

Bokuto smiled so brightly it lit up the entire courtyard. “You’re the best, Akaashi!” He skipped up the path, dragging Keiji with him. “I promise I won’t complain about your clothes. If they don’t fit, I'll just wear my underwear to bed!”

Keiji tripped on the air in front of him as the beating of his heart came to a stop.

“Watch out, Akaashi!”

As his heart returned to an unsteady rhythm, he stood upright and walked past Bokuto, ignoring his warning and pulling his own hand away to press his fob against the sensor. "I don’t think that will be necessary, Bokuto-san. I'm sure we can find something for you to wear.”

“I was just kidding, Akaashi.” When Keiji turned back towards him, there was that glimmer in his eye that was a near-permanent fixture whenever Keiji looked at him, and he had that feeling again like it was only a matter of time before Bokuto let himself be pulled back to shore. He couldn’t help but match the grin on Bokuto’s face with a small smile of his own.

  
  


☆☆☆

  
  


Before lunch the next day, the mock exams his class had taken the day before were returned to them. Keiji frowned as he stared at the grade on his paper. It wasn’t a bad grade, but it wasn’t the best he had ever done, either. Even before this exam, his grades had been slipping. There were too many potential causes for him to pinpoint one as the culprit; his still-present anxieties about being a starter, Bokuto’s recent increase in dependency on him, the expectations he and the rest of team held when it came to his ability to calm Bokuto down, reign him in, or otherwise suppress his 'dejected mode', or maybe it was simply the result of a high school workload. Being a top student in middle school didn’t mean that would hold true for his entire academic career.

From the other side of the classroom, someone shouted, “WOAH! You got the top score?! Exams are gonna be a breeze for you!” When Akaashi looked up, he saw it was his teammate, Shima, who had been shouting. The one he was shouting at was Kanmuri, the back-up libero of the team.

“Of course I'm worried! This was just a mock exam,” Kanmuri said. “The real thing will definitely be harder.”

Kanmuri had a good point; this was only practice. Judging by his score and current rate of studying, Keiji would be lucky to pass all of his exams. While this thought occurred to him, Kanmuri turned, caught his eye, and he realized he had been staring at the two of them. He quickly shifted his gaze back to his own paper.

“Hey, Akaashi-kun,” Kanmuri called. So he had noticed Keiji staring. “What did you get?”

Keiji looked back up at him. Kanmuri was smiling, nothing but polite interest on his face. Maybe he hadn’t realized Keiji was staring after all, and thought it was only by chance their eyes had met. Or maybe he was pretending he hadn’t noticed.

As soon as Keiji opened his mouth to respond, Shima was in front of him, tugging on the exam so he could see the score for himself. “Oh, Muri-chan! He did okay. Better than me, that’s for sure.”

Kanmuri appeared in an instant, smacking Shima’s hand away. “Don’t look at someone else’s exam without asking! Sorry, Akaashi-kun, he never learned any manners. The only thing he knows how to do is spin a volleyball on his finger.”

“Hey! I'm pretty good at that, though, right?”

Ignoring Shima’s question, Kanmuri sat on top of the desk to Keiji’s left. “How do you feel about the exams next week? You’re always in the top three, aren’t you? I bet you’ve been studying every night!”

“Well...I've been trying to,” Keiji said.

Kanmuri jutted a thumb out towards Shima. “You probably have better luck than me when I'm trying to study with this guy. It’s like he’ll do anything to get out of it! Not that he can afford to skip out.”

The previous study session and its lack of results made Keiji wince at Kanmuri’s suggestion. "I doubt my luck is any better than yours, Kanmuri-kun, considering you got the better grade and all.”

Kanmuri shrugged. “It’s only a mock exam. The real thing is way different, isn’t it? Besides, no one who has to study with such a simpleton should be considered lucky. I think my IQ has dropped at least fifty points from being in the same class as him alone.”

“You know,” Shima said, “you could be a little nicer when you talk about me in front of my face. At least save the trash talk for when you’re behind my back.”

“Why don't you turn around and spin a ball on your finger so I can complain about you as much as I need to.”

Shima pressed his whole body against Kanmuri, wrapping his arms around him as he whined, “Muri-chan! The other first years are so much nicer to me. Why are you so mean?”

“Maybe if you stopped clinging to me all the time and let me breathe,” Kanmuri said, shoving him away.

“Fine!” Shima moved to stand behind Keiji. "I bet Akaashi would be nice to me if we studied together. Say, Akaashi,” he rested an arm against one of Keiji’s shoulders and dropped his chin onto the other, “you seem like a nice teacher. Want to study together?”

Swinging his leg out, Kanmuri’s foot connected with Shima’s back. He hopped away from Keiji, howling in pain as he did so. “Akaashi-kun always studies with the second years, remember? He’s too busy to hang out with the likes of you.”

“Actually…” Keiji thought of all the fruitless study sessions, looked at his test score, and finished his thought before he could think about it any further. “Actually, if you don’t mind, I would be happy to study with you.”

Kanmuri’s eyes widened with surprise. “Really? Oh, well, sure, of course you can. I just assumed -- you’re always with the second years, so I never thought you would want to study with us.”

“It’s becoming more and more difficult to get any studying done,” because of Bokuto, “because we’re never studying the same material,” Keiji explained. “It might help if I were to study with someone in my year. And I could really use the help,” he added, holding up his exam.

Shima slapped Keiji on the back three times in a row. “It’ll be so much fun! Now that we have all the first years on the team getting together, it’ll be like a party!” He recovered quickly, Keiji thought.

“You know, Akaashi-kun, it’s a good thing you’re coming,” Kanmuri said. “I might need your help wrangling this one in.”

“Didn’t I make it clear already? Akaashi is on _my_ side,” Shima said. “We don’t need you there.”

Keiji shifted in his seat. “Did you say the rest of the first years will be coming?”

Shima nodded. “Yup. Me, you, this jerk, Emi, and Huang.”

“Is this something you do regularly?” Keiji asked. “All of you get together to study?”

Shima nodded again. “At least once a week, but when exams come around, it’s nearly every day, especially once practice is put on hold.”

“I see.” Keiji felt awkward, and embarrassed, and a little foolish. He had never been aware that every other first year in the club besides himself met up every week. How long had this been going on? How long had he been so oblivious?

Kanmuri gave Keiji a light punch in the arm. “It’s not like we left you out on purpose or anything. You’ve always been with the second years, since the day we all joined the club.”

“I understand.” And now he felt guilt as well. He hadn’t noticed it before, but he couldn’t recall any time he had spent with his fellow first years outside of practice. He could hardly recall a time he had spent outside of practice with anyone when Bokuto wasn’t present. He had been on the same team as them for seven months but all he knew about them were their names and positions. “I suppose I end up following Bokuto-san most of the time,” he admitted.

A look of familiarity flashed across Kanmuri’s face before his pleasant smile returned. “Hey, Akaashi-kun, we usually go to the other class to eat lunch with Emi and Huang. Do you want to come with us today?”

“I would like that,” Keiji said. While he was genuinely looking forward to lunch with them, he was just as curious about the look Kanmuri had worn for a brief moment. His only source of hesitation came from knowing that the second years would be expecting him soon.

They stood to collect their things, and as Shima searched through his bag, he cried out, “oh no! My lunch!”

“What is it this time?” Kanmuri asked. “Did your dad pack you natto again?”

“I wouldn't know,” Shima said, his face drooping in dejection as he slumped into his seat. “I forgot to pack it.”

“Again? Jeez,” Kanmuri swiped his hand through Shima’s hair, tousling it from side to side. “I suppose you want me to share mine with you?”

“Muri-chan! Would you?”

“You’re lucky I happened to pack extra. But you can’t have my dessert, so don’t even ask.”

“Yay!” Shima cheered, raising his arms and swinging them through the air as he skipped into the hallway.

As he followed, Keiji pulled his phone out and tried to compose a message to Bokuto. He had always eaten with the second years, but this wasn’t something to worry over, right? It was just lunch. There was no reason to feel like he was betraying anybody. It was just lunch.

“Akaashi!”

From the opposite end of the hall, he heard someone call out to him. As he turned, he saw Sarukui and Bokuto ascending from the staircase. Sarukui, having just called out to him, was holding Bokuto’s hand in the air and waving it back and forth.

“Sarukui-san, Bokuto-san,” Keiji greeted them. “What brings you two here?”

“We got lunch!” Bokuto held up a plastic-wrapped sandwich and Sarukui did the same. “And since we were already out, we decided to pick you up!”

“Bokuto decided,” Sarukui corrected. “I'm just here for the sandwich.”

“I wish you hadn’t come all this way,” Keiji said. “I was just about to message you.”

“What for?” Bokuto smiled at him, and it made the knot in Keiji’s stomach twist.

Keiji looked at his hands, which were too occupied holding his lunch to fiddle with each other. “I made plans to eat with the other first years today...”

“Aw!” Sarukui reached out and poked Keiji in the cheek. “Our Akaashi is making friends his own age. Isn’t that sweet, Bokuto?” He nudged Bokuto’s side with his elbow. Keiji looked up, and Bokuto looked back at him with an expression twisted with despair.

“But I want to eat lunch with you, Akaashi!”

“It’s only for today, Bokuto-san.”

“Yeah, Bokuto-san, it’s only for today,” Sarukui echoed. “You’ll see him after school at Washio’s.”

“I also made plans to study with them after school today.”

“Ah- _kaaw_ -shee!” Bokuto wailed.

“Uh-oh.” Sarukui linked arms with Bokuto and began to pull him backwards towards the staircase. “I better get him out of here before he implodes.”

“It’s only for today,” Keiji repeated.

“I want to study with Akaashi!” Bokuto cried as Sarukui dragged him away.

“I know, I know,” Sarukui patted his head, tactfully avoiding his spiked horns, “but everybody wants to study with Akaashi. You have to share him sometimes.”

The conversation beyond that, Keiji didn’t hear. Sarukui had successfully pulled Bokuto around the corner and out of sight. He turned back towards the classrooms and saw Kanmuri standing in the doorway, waiting for him.

“Is everything alright?” Kanmuri asked as Keiji approached. He wore that same look of familiarity as before.

“Bokuto-san is a little disappointed, that’s all,” Keiji explained.

Kanmuri gave him a small smile, a knowing look, and then from inside the classroom Shima yelled, “melonpan! Muri-chan, I can eat this, right?”

Kanmuri began shouting back as he turned into the classroom and Keiji realized what that look of familiarity was. It was a look that said, ‘ _so you have someone who relies on you desperately too.’_

As Keiji stood in the doorway, organizing his thoughts, he took stock of everything he felt in the moment. Just as powerful as the guilt, betrayal, anxiety, and embarrassment he had felt over the past few minutes was a feeling of disappointment. As difficult as it was to get any work done with Bokuto around, he realized that time was important to him all the same. No matter how little academic studying he got done, all that time he spent scolding Bokuto for his lack of focus was just as valuable as any subject he could learn about in school. After all, there was something only Bokuto could help him study.

He sat down with the rest of the first years and as he watched Kanmuri and Shima bicker he thought, yes, they both did have someone who relied on them heavily, but in Keiji’s circumstance, he relied on Bokuto just as much.

  
  


☆☆☆

  
  


In some ways, studying with the other first years felt as familiar as studying with the second years.

“This is BORING!” Shima jumped up from where he sat at Kanmuri’s kitchen table. "I can’t believe we had to cancel practice for this. I don’t care about my grades, all I wanna do is spike!” He hopped in place and flung his hand through the air above his head, whacking at nothing.

“We know, we know,” Kanmuri said, yanking Shima down by the wrist until he was sitting at the table again. "We’ve been here twenty minutes and it’s the third time you’ve said it already. We get it. But as long as the second and third years are around, you’re never gonna get to spike in a real game. Why not focus on something you can actually control, like your grades?”

Shima grabbed his pencil and slammed open his workbook with a huff. "It’s not like I'm the one grading the exams. How am I supposed to control what grade I get?”

Kanmuri patted him on the head. "Just try your best.”

It was a scene Keiji recognized, a scene that made him wonder if he would really have any better luck studying here than at Washio’s.

After a few minutes of staring, scribbling, staring harder, and furiously erasing, Shima was groaning. His head dropped to the table, the impact loud enough for Keiji to worry about the state of his face.

Kanmuri leaned to the side, where his backpack sat, and stuck a hand inside. "Hey, Shima?”

“Please, leave me alone. I can’t take this anymore. I'm going to lay here, my final resting place, until I pass away.”

“I don’t think you want to pass away quite yet.” From his bag, Kanmuri pulled out something wrapped in plastic and held it out to Shima. "Don’t you want to know what I have?” Shima grunted and wrapped his arms around his head. There was a rustling sound as Kanmuri shook the package. “C'mon, one little peek.”

Shima lifted his head slightly, enough that his eyes appeared above his arms; and then he jerked all the way up, shouted “melonpan!” and pounced forward. Kanmuri had the bun concealed behind his back before Shima could extend his arms out.

“After you finish a page,” Kanmuri said, “you can have _one_ bite.”

It was all the motivation Shima needed. He lowered his head, picked up his pencil, and began scribbling again.

“Only one bite?” Keiji asked.

“You should see the size of one bite for him.”

In some ways, it was similar to studying with the second years, but the dissimilarities left Keiji feeling...inspired.

After a knock at the door, Kanmuri tilted his chin up towards Keiji. "The person closest to the door has to answer it. That’s you, Akaashi-kun.”

As he stood, Keiji couldn’t shake the feeling of impoliteness at opening someone else’s door, even if his host had requested it. The feeling was not mitigated upon opening the door and taking in Emi and Huang’s faces when they saw Keiji in the entryway.

“Akaashi-kun,” Emi said, “you’re here.”

“Yes,” Keiji answered. Their surprise left him feeling even more unsettled. "I told you I was coming at lunch, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, you did.” Emi’s face softened, turning from surprised to neutral. "I didn’t mean to sound rude, sorry.” Then he grinned, broad and coprophagous. "Now we’ll finally get to know the enigmatic Akaashi Keiji.” He patted Keiji on the arm and brushed past him into the house. Huang gave Keiji a polite nod before he followed the path Emi had made and entered Kanmuri’s house.

The two greeted Kanmuri and Shima before sitting down, Emi beside Kanmuri and Huang beside Shima. As Keiji returned to his seat, he realized he was between the two newcomers and somehow felt awkward at embedding himself in the middle of this established quartet. The self-consciousness he felt increased at the realization that everyone except for Shima, who was still diligently working on obtaining a bite of melonpan, was watching him. He tried to ignore their stares as he returned his attention to the textbook in front of him.

“Akaashi-kun,” Emi said, drawing out the last syllable. He began pulling books and writing utensils out of his bag. "This is exciting. I don’t even know where to begin with my questioning.”

"I didn’t realize I would be the subject we studied today,” Keiji said.

“How could we resist? You’re always with the second years, so we’ve never had an opportunity like this before.”

The attention on him made him shift uncomfortably in his seat, but he didn’t want to seem rude. "Is there something about me you’d like to know?”

Emi hummed as he tapped a pen against his chin. "I guess there isn’t anything in particular. it’s more like, what _don’t_ we want to know, y’know?”

“Should I...start from my birth?”

“That’s a little too much information,” Kanmuri said.

A moment later, Shima perked up. “Muri-chan, I finished a page!”

Kanmuri took the workbook from Shima, flipped through the pages he had finished, and smiled at him. “Good work, Shima. Here’s your reward.” He opened the packaging and held the bun out to Shima, who lunged forward and took half of it in one bite. "Now finish five more pages and you can have another bite.”

“The number of pages increased,” Keiji noted.

“There’s only so much melonpan in the world,” Kanmuri pointed out.

“Back to business,” Emi drew Keiji’s attention back to him. “Let’s start with Bokuto. How long have you known him? Since middle school? Elementary school?”

“Since I joined this school,” Keiji answered.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Huh.” Emi tapped his pen against his chin again. "What about the other second years?”

“Since entering Fukurodani.”

“ _Really?_ ”

“Really.”

“You’re all so close!” Kanmuri exclaimed. "We figured you went to the same middle school, at least.”

“You figured?” Keiji looked back and forth between the two of them. "Was I a popular topic of discussion when the four of you gathered?”

Emi’s mouth opened and closed before he settled on blowing air between his lips. “It’s not like we were gossiping about you,” he pouted. "We were just curious. You seemed so...elusive. A first year who only hangs out with second years...it was a little intimidating!”

Keiji balked at the notion of him being _intimidating_ or _elusive._ He never realized he came off as so unapproachable.

“How did you become so close with them, then?” Kanmuri asked. "It’s like you’ve been a part of their group since we joined the club.”

"I suppose it was through Bokuto-san.” Keiji thought back to his first month on the team, that first time he had joined the second years as they studied. "I think he was excited for another setter to be on the team. We get along well, and it’s easier for me to motivate him than it is for others. It made things simpler for them. They invited me to spend time with them because of that. There’s nothing unique or mysterious about me, really. I'm just helpful to them."

“So you're saying,” Emi said, “the only reason the second years put up with you is because you’re good at reigning in Bokuto?”

Keiji was taken aback by his bluntness, but when he considered what _he_ had said, he realized that Emi wasn’t wrong. Even though he had never put his feelings into words so plainly before, he couldn’t deny that it was what he thought. He was a resource for his teammates.

"I find that hard to believe,” Kanmuri said. "The way they dote on you, it’s pretty clear they adore you.”

"I think you’ve misinterpreted our relationship if you think they _dote_ on me,” Keiji insisted.

“No, you’re definitely spoiled,” Emi assured him. "Just the other day, Komi-san offered to clip your nails for you.”

“Only because he was poking fun at the state of them,” Keiji said.

“Last week,” Kanmuri added, “when Washio-san went to the convenience store during practice, he brought back six different drinks for you to choose from.”

“That was because he couldn’t find me beforehand and I've been careless about proper hydration before -- “

“You left your jacket on the train a month ago,” Huang interjected. "When Sarukui-san and Konoha-san found out, they fought over who could lend you theirs.”

Keiji was too shocked to say anything in response. It was the first time Huang had spoken since they arrived, and he had been so quiet that Keiji almost forgot he was there.

“Anyway, does it really matter what the original intent was when you first talked to them?” Emi said. "I only ever spoke to Huang because he was so tall. I was assigned class duties, he was the tallest kid in class and the only one who could reach the chalk that was on the top shelf. And now, we’re best friends.”

“That never happened,” Huang said. "We only met this year.”

“You didn’t deny that we’re best friends, though.”

Huang ignored Emi’s comment and turned back to Keiji. “Emi is right -- about one thing, at least. It doesn’t matter what brought you together; all that matters is the bond you share now.”

There was a stoic intensity to Huang that reminded Keiji of Washio. Maybe it was a middle blocker thing, or maybe they were only similar in that sense. For whatever reason, he felt strangely reassured by it. By Huang’s tone, his words, and the sense of familiarity he gained by listening to him. A feeling of comfort washed over him as he realized it wasn’t just Bokuto he relied on.

“What a cheesy thing to say!” Shima finally looked up from his workbook to laugh at Huang’s sincerity. Huang looked down at the book in front of him, his expression unreadable.

“Don’t tease him, he’s sensitive,” Emi chided. He sighed before continuing. "I guess we might as well do some studying now. We’ll have to interrogate you later, Akaashi-kun.” The grin he had worn when he was at the door returned. "Once exams are over, alright?”

It wasn’t a smile that Keiji trusted, but he nodded his agreement anyway. “Once exams are over.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **kanmuri:** kanmurizuku or crested owl. a libero in akaashi's year.
> 
>  **emi:** waraifukurou or laughing owl. a wing spiker in akaashi's year. the kanji for "warai" used is 笑, which can also be read as "emi." fun fact: this owl is extinct!
> 
> thank you for reading, commenting, leaving kudos, or just thinking abt fukurodani spoiling akaashi in silly ways.


	6. ep 4.2: the dangers of spoiling bokuto koutarou

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bokuto has a fruitful study session

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "木ピ" is my poor attempt at translating "konopi," which is an extremely cute nickname for konoha i saw an artist use for him before and i can't get over it so. that's his username.
> 
> warning that this chapter is very long >_< i had to stuff a lot in bc i didn't want to make each ~episode~ more than one or two chapters but this one...just got away from me i guess! there will be one more chapter dedicated to their studying drama and that chapter will feature a special treat for stage play enthusiasts, so watch out :3

Whatever similarities or differences there were between the way the second years and first years studied, Keiji left the session feeling accomplished. Not only had they covered a sufficient amount of material, Kanmuri only lived one train stop away from him. It took almost no time at all to get home.

On the train, he checked his phone, expecting at least a few messages from Bokuto. There were none from him and none from the other second years. The only message he had was one from his mother letting him know she would be home late. He put his phone away and chewed at his lip. That was a good sign, he supposed, that no one had gotten in touch with him. Wasn’t it?

As he got off the train, he thought about messaging Bokuto. It felt strange to go home without him. There had been days where they didn’t travel home together, but they were rare. Only when they had days off from practice and Keiji had errands to run did they ever go home separately. His heart tugged at his logic, badgering him to send a quick message, but he refrained. On the off-chance that Bokuto _was_ studying, he didn’t want to distract him. They would see each other at school the next day. He would just have to hold out until then.

He caught himself wringing his fingers together and could feel himself worrying at his lip. He pulled his hands apart and pressed his lips together. There wasn’t anything for him to worry about. He had already admitted it to himself; he missed the second years. He had only spent one afternoon away from them and he was already aching to see them again. What he was feeling wasn’t warranted anxiety, it was eagerness. Maybe he really was spoiled by them.

On the walk home he tried to distract himself by thinking of what he would have for dinner, made plans for studying before bed, composed a message to Bokuto in his head -- no, that’s what he was supposed to be avoiding. He paused as he reached his street to close his eyes and take a breath, and then continued on. He sang the school’s anthem in his head, repeated the Fukurodani cheer he had heard countless times at games, and made it up the street and to the courtyard in front of his apartment building before he thought about Bokuto again.

This time, it wasn’t his brain or heart at fault for reminding him of Bokuto; it was the sound of hooting that came from his pocket. He pulled his phone out to find a notification from Konoha.

 **木ピ  
**[19:15] rly missed u today ~(>_<~)

 **AkaashiK  
**[19:16] How was the study session?

 **木ピ  
**[19:16] …..  
[19:16] (눈_눈)

 **AkaashiK  
**[19:17] Konoha-san?

 **木ピ  
**[19:18] ill let bokuto tell u abt it (⇀‸↼‶)

It was a rather ominous message, but considering Konoha was usually the most exasperated by Bokuto, he didn’t think much of it. Whatever had happened, he was sure Bokuto would tell him about it soon enough. He put his phone away, continued to his apartment, and waited for Bokuto to message him.

  
  


☆☆☆

  
  


Bokuto made no attempts to contact him that evening. It wasn’t until the next morning in front of the school gates that Keiji heard from him again. He stood with Konoha and Komi, the latter of which was gesticulating wildly as he narrated what was surely an exciting story. When they caught sight of Keiji, Komi’s tale ended. He waved excitedly, calling out Keiji’s name. As soon as he had caught up to them, Komi leapt into the air, wrapped an arm around him, and pulled him down to his height in an affectionate headlock.

“There you are! Thought you could get away with ditching us yesterday, eh?”

“Komi-san, my neck…”

“ _This_ neck? You mean the neck of a traitor? What about it?”

Keiji looked up at Konoha who only half-heartedly shrugged. It was his own mistake to expect any help from Konoha in the first place. He looked at Bokuto then, who he realized was looking everywhere but at Keiji. As opposed to the comfortable slouch he typically maintained, his posture was correct now, but rigid and awkward. The pockets of his jacket puffed out where his hands were stuffed inside, the outlines of his fists clear as they pressed against the fabric

“Bokuto-san?”

At the sound of his name, Bokuto perked instantly. His head spun around, eyes widened, posture softened, even his horn-shaped hair seemed more lively. Just as quickly, he deflated back to his crystallized form. An awkward smile stretched across his face.

“Oh, Akaashi. Good morning,” he said with a tone as stiff as his posture.

The mentalwork of trying to decipher what _this_ form of his name meant, and what Bokuto’s sudden personality change in general meant, distracted Keiji enough he didn’t notice when Komi released him until he received a firm pat on the back.

“Good morning, Bokuto-san.” He couldn’t help but reply with equal inelegance as he straightened himself. “Are you well?”

“Yes, thank you -- OW!’ Bokuto jerked to the side and cried out as Konoha’s foot connected with his hip. Konoha ignored his cries of grievance and held his index and middle finger up in a V at Keiji.

“Don’t I get a greeting, too, Akaashi?”

“Of course, Konoha-san, but does it have to be such a violent one?”

“It doesn’t _have_ to be, but it certainly makes my morning a more enjoyable one.”

He gave Konoha a polite nod as he said “good morning,” not out of formality, but because he knew it would amuse him. Konha granted him a broad smile and a wave of his fingers, and then Komi resumed his storytelling. Keiji’s attention returned to Bokuto, who was rubbing the spot that Konoha had kicked and glaring at the culprit. After a few moments of rubbing, he turned and met Keiji’s gaze, his own eyes growing wide for only a moment before he caught himself. Bokuto gathered his hands in front of him, straightened back to his rigid form, and turned his head, squinting as if focused on something while his eyes drifted as if they weren’t looking at anything.

“Bokuto-san?”

That granted him a sidelong look. Affected disinterest stained Bokuto’s expression. Keiji wanted to question his sudden personality change, wanted to find out if it had anything to do with what happened yesterday, wanted to find out _what happened yesterday_ , but a rush of students appeared, running towards the gate and reminding them of the time.

“Shit! We better get inside,” Konoha said, grabbing Bokuto’s wrist and dragging him along as he ran towards the school. Komi was gone before either of them, and Keiji was left at the school gate, feeling confused, disappointed, and frustrated. The state of agitated confusion he felt was so overwhelming he almost forgot to rush through the gates himself. He rushed to class just as the teachers on duty arrived to begin taking names. 

  
  


☆☆☆

  
  


As lunchtime arrived, Shima took it upon himself to sit on top of Keiji’s desk and inspect his meal, a convenience store bento. Kanmuri snatched the bento from him and gave it back to Keiji.

“C’mon, Shima. Emi and Huang are waiting. Coming today, Akaashi?”

He _had_ promised Bokuto that it would be only one day, and Bokuto’s behavior that morning was certainly worrying. Before he could mull over his choices further, a commotion at the door drew his attention. Another student stood at the front of the class, holding the door open. They let out a confused “senpai?” and two tufts of gray hair poked into the doorframe. The gray horns disappeared just as quickly as they had come into view.

“What are you hiding from?!”

Keiji couldn’t see the owner of the voice, but he recognized it instantly as Konoha’s.

“Or maybe,” Kanmuri said, his own gaze directed toward the door, “you have other plans.”

Keiji stood from his desk to inspect the commotion himself. He passed his befuddled classmate and stepped into the hallway, where a short distance from the door to his class, he found Bokuto, being embraced in a headlock by Konoha.

“Konoha-san? Bokuto-san?”

They both looked at Keiji in surprise. Konoha untangled himself first, unwrapping Bokuto’s arms from around his waist and moving to stand in the center of the hallway. He stood with his arms crossed, inspecting his fingernails. Bokuto busied himself thumbing a poster on the wall.

“What are the two of you causing a ruckus for?”

“Yeah, Bokuto?” Konoha slapped Bokuto with a plastic-wrapped sandwich -- his lunch, presumably -- before he pulled it back against his chest and wrapped his arms around it protectively. “Why are you making a scene outside of Akaashi’s classroom?”

“Konoha-san, when I stepped out here, you had Bokuto-san in a headlock.”

He clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes. “Are you eating lunch with us or what, Akaashi?”

Ah, so they were here to collect him again.

“Kanmuri extended an invitation for me to eat with them again today.”

“So you’re gonna eat with your new friends again today, too?” Bokuto asked. With his furrowed brow and exaggerated pout, Keiji had never seen him look so pitiable.

“They’re your friends, too!” Konoha slapped him again with his sandwich. “We’re all in the same club.”

“Konoha-san is right; they’re your friends too, Bokuto-san. Would you like to join us for lunch?”

Even though the frown was still cut deep in Bokuto’s face, a glimmer of life returned to his eyes. “Really?”

“Of course. You’re always welcome to eat lunch with me.”

Bokuto raised his fists in the air and shouted, “hey hey HEY!” All traces of despair were gone from his expression. He grabbed Konoha by the wrist and pulled him toward the classroom. “Let’s go, Konoha!”

“Uh, I’m going back to our floor. I was gonna steal some of Washio’s milk bread…”

“You know, Konoha-san, yesterday Kanmuri expressed his admiration over a receive you executed during a practice match last week. I’m sure he would enjoy discussing it with you further.”

“On second thought,” Konoha tapped his sandwich against his chin thoughtfully, “ who am I to deny my precious kouhai’s request?”

  
  


☆☆☆

  
  


The seven of them took up an entire quarter of the first year classroom, but it wasn’t because they occupied that much space. Bokuto’s presence was impactful, even off the court. He was well-known throughout the entire school, and most of the students in Keiji’s year found him intimidating. There were plenty of students who took their lunch in that classroom, but that afternoon, they had all decided to give the volleyball club members plenty of space. 

It didn’t take long after sitting down for Bokuto to return to his usual self. He and Shima were gesticulating wildly at an imaginary ball while they discussed a play they had made that won them a practice match the week before. Whatever calamity had befallen Bokuto to cause his earlier personality shift had passed -- for now, at least. Keiji was still intent on finding out what exactly had set Bokuto off, but the usual indicators weren’t there. Or rather, it was impossible for Keiji to find them if they were, since Bokuto’s most recent mood swing involved avoiding him.

“Akaashi? You listening?” Emi was perched on the windowsill, watching him with that capricious grin on his face again. “I was just asking you if you have any opinion on where we study today.”

“Is Kanmuri’s place unavailable? That worked well for me.”

“We can only use my place when my family’s away,” Kanmuri explained. He was sitting across from Keiji, sharing a desk with Shima. “My parents don’t like me taking up the whole kitchen when they’re trying to make dinner and I share a room with my older brother, so...there’s no room for all of us.”

“When that happens,” Emi continued, “we either go to the library or my place. There’s plenty of room at mine, but it’s pretty noisy with all of my younger siblings. Plus all my little cousins are visiting this week…”

“The library may be best then,” Keiji said. The only sibling-of-a-friend he had dealt with so far was Washio’s older sister who, much like Washio, spoke few words and had her own uniquely intimidating air about her. Being older, she knew to give them their space while studying. Keiji dreaded to imagine how a younger sibling -- or _several_ \-- would impact their evening.

“Libraries are so creepy though,” Bokuto added with a grimace. “They’re so quiet -- and big! Our school’s library is huge!”

“I believe that’s the point, Bokuto-san,” Keiji said. 

Bokuto raised his eyebrows incredulously. “I guess so, but they still seem creepy to me.”

“Didn’t you say Akaashi’s place is huge? And quiet?” Konoha asked. “Are you saying his place creeps you out too?”

“Definitely not!” Bokuto slammed his palms against the desk, rattling Keiji’s bento. “Akaashi’s place is the greatest! There’s a pool, and a gym, and a bunch of fancy art in the lobby, and all of his neighbors look really stylish and cool, and there’s a concierge, and a whole bunch of other stuff that he won’t let me explore!”

“Wow,” Emi said, “sounds lavish.”

“Yes, well...the concierge is only there part-time,” Keiji said. Emi snorted at that, and Keiji couldn’t blame him.

“Ooh, how big is it, Akaashi?” Shima asked.

“It’s got two living rooms!” Bokuto answered for him. “All the bathrooms are western-style. He has his own bathroom! And his backyard is a whole park!”

“Bokuto-san, I already explained to you, that’s not my backyard -- “

“A whole park?!” Shima exclaimed, his mouth full of melon pan. His face twisted as he made a choking noise and Kanmuri patted his back, shaking his head in exasperation.

“Do you have a lot of siblings, Akaashi?” Huang asked.

“No,” Keiji answered, “it’s just my mother and I.”

“Hmm, that makes sense,” Kanmuri said with a teasing smile. “You definitely come off as an only child.”

Keiji wasn’t sure if he should take offense to that remark or not, but he didn’t get the chance to think it over.

“Sounds perfect,” Emi said. “Spacious, quiet, and no family around? Let’s study at your place, Akaashi.”

Keiji nearly choked on his mouthful of rice. “ _My_ place?”

“Then that leaves the library open for us,” Konoha said. “If that’s too creepy for you, Bokuto, we could study at your house instead.”

“No way!” Bokuto flung his sandwich through the air. “My house is definitely off limits.”

“Yeah, it wouldn’t work anyway,” Konoha agreed. “There’s your sisters we’d have to contend with for space, and the twins are always wrecking havoc...”

Keiji paused then and it took him several moments to realize he was staring at Bokuto with his mouth hung open, chopsticks centimeters away from his face. He hadn’t heard many details about Bokuto’s house or his family; only enough to know he felt incredibly vexed by their existence.

Konoha caught his eye as his mouth was still ajar and gave him an amused grin. “Something wrong, Akaashi?”

Bokuto turned towards Keiji so fast, noodles and crumbs flew across their shared desk. “Akaashi?”

“It’s nothing, Bokuto-san. I’m...surprised.” A spark of jealousy had rushed through him as Konoha revealed information about Bokuto’s life that he was unfamiliar with. He turned back towards his bento in hopes that it would hide anything his expression might reveal. “I’ve never been to your house before.” His tone was expectant, though what he was expecting was a mystery, even to himself.

Bokuto bowed his head and leaned across the table to line his face with Keiji’s. “My house is really boring. And my whole family’s always there. Your place is way nicer!”

“You just don’t like sharing,” Konoha snickered.

Bokuto spun back around to Konoha and grumbled, “shut up,” before he lunged forward. This time, he was the one to put Konoha in a headlock. As they wrestled, Keiji finally realized what it was they were discussing.

“You’re looking for a place to study?” he asked. “What about Washio-san’s house?”

The two of them froze at Keiji’s question. Bokuto tried to pull away, but Konoha tightened the grip he had around Bokuto’s waist and held him in place.

“He didn’t tell you?” Konoha asked.

“Tell me what?”

Konoha looked up at Bokuto and smirked. “Go on, Bokuto. Tell all our kouhai what happened.”

With a groan, Bokuto pressed his palm against Konoha’s cheek and shoved, finally freeing himself from the grip of his tormentor. He grabbed Keiji by the shoulders and shook. “Aw-KA-AH-shee! I was kicked out of Washio’s because I can’t do math!”

“What?” Keiji put his hands on Bokuto’s arms to steady himself. He looked past Bokuto to Konoha for further explanation, but Konoha was openly laughing. Again, Keiji realized, it was his mistake to expect assistance from him. “What are you talking about? They wouldn’t kick you out for a reason like that.”

“But they _did!_ ”

“They couldn’t have. You’ve never been good at math,” Keiji said flatly. “Why would that bother them now?”

Bokuto’s shoulders fell and his hands dropped to his lap. “A- _kaa_ -shi...you don’t have to put it so bluntly…”

From behind him, Konoha leaned forward and rested his chin against Bokuto’s shoulder, a grin still plastered across his face. “That’s not exactly what happened, is it?” Bokuto waved his arm to knock Konoha back, which only amused him further.

“Konoha-san.” There was no inflection in his voice to indicate it was a question, but as Keiji said his name, he, to the best of his abilities, mimicked an expression he had seen their captain wear many times before. Konoha shuddered in return.

“Jeez, Akaashi, enough with that look.” Konoha straightened himself out and sat back in his chair. “He’s half-right; we were banned from Washio’s house and he is bad at math.”

“And?” Keiji raised his eyebrows in inquiry. Bokuto slouched forward in his seat, half-laying on the desk as he picked at the remnants of his yakisoba pan.

“He was having trouble with a math problem, so he ran away and hid. In the tub. Right before Washio’s dad went to take a bath.”

“Oh...”

“We heard his dad scream from upstairs. By the time we got down there, Bokuto had hid again.”

“I didn’t mean to scare them,” Bokuto interjected.

“Them?” Keiji repeated. “As in, multiple members of Washio-san’s household?”

Konoha held a hand up. “I’m almost there. So, we search the house for him for ten minutes or so because we don’t want a repeat of the bathroom incident, but then, we hear another scream, from the kitchen this time.”

“Bokuto-san…” The boy in question had his forehead pressed against the desk now. Again, Keiji thought of how pitiable he seemed. He put a hand on Bokuto’s shoulder in consolation, but whether it had any effect, he couldn’t tell.

“This time from his mom,” Konoha continued. “Bokuto had crawled under the sink. It was dark under there, and Bokuto moaned as soon as she opened the cabinet, so she thought he was a ghost!”

“Bokuto-san?” Keiji laid his head down on the table next to Bokuto. “Is that why they kicked you out?” Slowly, he nodded his head.

“They didn’t ban us from studying there anymore exactly, but Washio did suggest we give his family some time to recuperate from the experience.” Konoha smiled fondly to himself. “It was pretty hilarious, seeing such an unshakable family crack all at once. It almost made losing our study spot worth it.”

“That’s why you have to find a new place to study,” Keiji confirmed. He was relieved to find it was something so simple that had been troubling Bokuto, but he still felt as though he was missing a piece of the puzzle; a clue that would explain why Bokuto had acted so awkward and avoidant towards him.

“I’m a little shocked, Bokuto-senpai,” Emi said with a grin to match Konoha’s. “I didn’t think anything outside of volleyball could affect you so deeply.”

“Well, it’s mostly just volleyball,” Konoha said with half of a shrug. “Anyway, that’s why we have to study at the library.”

Bokuto shot upright. “I don’t want to study at the library!”

“Too bad,” Konoha said. “Unless you want to study at your house.”

“No! I want to study at Akaashi’s!”

“What?” Keiji said, again. “You can’t study at my -- ”

“That’s such a great idea, Bokuto-senpai!” Shima stood up so quickly his chair fell backwards. “You should study at Akaashi’s with the rest of us -- ow! Muri-chan, don’t pinch me!”

“Why would we -- oh,” that was right, Keiji realized. The details of Bokuto’s trauma had preoccupied him enough that he had forgotten Emi’s suggestion to study in his home. He had waited too long now; it was too late to dismiss the idea. All of the first years were set on going to his apartment. Bokuto was looking at him with excitement shimmering in his eyes. “Bokuto-san, you can’t study with us. How could any of us help you with a problem if you’re studying completely different material?”

Bokuto wrapped an arm around Konoha and yanked him forward. “I’ll bring him with me!”

“You can’t decide for someone else -- “

“Akaashi, please,” Konoha said. “I’m definitely going to your house.”

Keiji looked around him. Not only was his biggest weakness staring at him with glittering eyes and a quivering smile, the rest of the first years were watching him expectantly, with a range of expressions from curious to entertained to delighted. He had no choice but to admit defeat.

“I supposed two extra people won’t make much of a difference.”

Shima clapped and cheered. “Bokuto-senpai!”

“Shima!” Bokuto shouted as he held his hands out for a double high-five.

“That worked out well, didn’t it?” Konoha winked at Keiji. He couldn’t help but glower back. Konoha only laughed vigorously in response.

  
  


☆☆☆

  
  


After getting off the train that afternoon, Bokuto happily led Shima, Emi, and Keiji to the latter’s apartment. Since the others were leaving the school separately, he had already given them detailed instructions on how to get there -- transcribed by Bokuto and dictated by Keiji.

“And this is Akaashi’s front yard.” Bokuto waved his arm, gesturing to the courtyard in front of the apartment building.

“Wow, the whole thing?” Emi asked, his tone only half-facetious. “It’s all your front yard?”

“I suppose that’s not incorrect,” Keiji admitted.

At the door to the building, Bokuto pointed to the sensor and then to the keypad. “You have to unlock the door _twice!_ Akaashi has a little thingy that he waves in front of that sensor -- show them, Akaashi! And then he has to punch in a number. He told me the number once, and then I forgot it, and then he said, ‘that’s why I told you, because I knew you’d forget!’”

Shima was watching Bokuto with diligent eyes as if he was being told valuable information. He wore the same expression as Bokuto showed him the lobby and the elevator (“and you need the thingy for the elevator too!” Bokuto said excitedly.) By the time they had reached the door to Keiji’s apartment, the two of them were bouncing up and down in tandem. All the while, Emi’s lips were curled in bemusement.

As soon as they had slipped their shoes off in the entryway, Bokuto jumped from room to room much like he had the first time he had been there, except now he was familiar with the layout and he had Shima trailing along behind him.

“Maybe I could get a less intense tour?” Emi asked. “Or a place to set my bag down would be fine.”

Keiji showed Emi to a large table in the dining room. “I thought we could study here,” he said. “You can set your bag down anywhere.”

Emi smiled and set his bag down, and Keiji smiled back politely. Bokuto’s excitement to host had come as somewhat of a relief to him after it had been decided they would go to his house; he had never done much entertaining. Now, with a single guest in front of him, he struggled to think of what it was he was supposed to do.

“Would you like some tea?” he offered, deciding that basic Japanese hospitality would suffice for now, and showed Emi to the kitchen. “Or there are cold drinks in the fridge, if you’d like to take a look.”

Emi opted for a lychee-flavored drink from the fridge and opened it while looking out the kitchen window. He grinned into the mouth of the bottle. “I can see your backyard from here.”

“It doesn’t take much to amuse you, does it?” Keiji asked. Emi laughed, and he continued. “I was worried about entertaining as a first-time host but if it’s this simple, I feel relieved.”

“Glad I could make it easy for you,” Emi said, tipping the bottle towards Keiji.

The sound of footsteps approaching came from the hallway and Keiji turned, expecting to see Bokuto. Instead, his mother appeared in the doorframe.

“You’re home,” she said with a smile. “And with a friend!”

Emi introduced himself and Bokuto came in from the hallway with Shima by his side. Bokuto smiled brilliantly when he was greeted by Keiji’s mother.

“Oba-chan!” he called out. “You’re home so early today.”

Her smile grew at ‘oba-chan’. “A rare day off. I’ve been doing some work in the study this afternoon.”

“You just said it’s your day off but you’re doing work anyway? _Oba-chan!_ ” Bokuto chided.

Keiji did his best not to flinch at the familiarity between the two of them, which he still found alarming. He hadn’t had many friends over before, but the few he had introduced to his mother had never called her _oba-chan._ But Bokuto was unlike anyone he had ever known before.

“Oba-chan?” Emi repeated. “May I call you that as well?”

His mother’s eyes widened in surprise, and then she smiled with such delight that her eyes crinkled shut. “Of course! All of Keiji’s friends can call me that.” She stood beside Keiji, squeezed his shoulders between her palms and turned to his teammates as if showing off her most prized possession. “As long as you take good care of him, okay?”

They ardently agreed and Keiji tried to ignore the burning in his cheeks. As Shima introduced himself, a _hoot-hoot_ came from someone’s phone and Keiji automatically reached for his pocket. He had already gotten used to the ringtone Bokuto had given him, but it wasn’t his phone that had rung.

“It’s Konoha!” Bokuto said after pulling his phone out. “He says he’s out front. Where’s your thingy, Akaashi? I’ll go let him in.”

“Oh, Bokuto-kun,” his mother finally released Keiji and turned to Bokuto, “hasn’t Kei shown you how to buzz them in? You can open the door from here.”

Bokuto gasped. “Does it work for the elevator too?”

After confirming that it did work for the elevator, she showed Bokuto back to the entryway where the camera and intercom were. Keiji offered Shima a drink, and Emi pointed out the window.

“Did you see that, Shima? It’s Akaashi’s backyard.”

“Wow! It really is a whole park!”

Seeing as how they were clearly capable of entertaining themselves, Keiji left his guests to check on Bokuto.

“It’s the FIFTH FLOOR!” Bokuto yelled. He was holding his phone up and pressing the intercom button at the same time, shouting into both. “ALL THE WAY AT THE TOP! IT’S THE ONLY APARTMENT UP HERE!”

“Bokuto,” Konoha said over the intercom, “if you don’t stop screaming at me through the phone _and_ intercom, when I get up there, I’m going to shove that phone up your -- “

Bokuto lifted his finger from the intercom, muting Konoha before he could finish his sentence. “I think Konoha’s in a bad mood,” he said. “Maybe we shouldn’t have invited him.”

“I can still hear you!” Konoha shouted, barely audible, from Bokuto’s phone.

“Calm down already,” Bokuto said, his finger back on the intercom. “The door should open now!”

Keiji’s mother put a hand on his shoulder and said, “I picked up some snacks after you called. Though since you and Bokuto-kun always pick up food for yourselves, I didn’t know how much to get...hopefully it’s enough.”

“I’m sure we’ll make due,” Keiji said. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know, but I was out getting lunch for myself anyway.” She smiled fondly at him and brushed the hair away from his face. “I’ll be in the study if you need anything else.”

She left and Keiji looked back at Bokuto, who was staring at him with wide eyes.

“Oba-chan got snacks?”

“Go ahead, Bokuto-san. I can let Konoha-san in.”

Bokuto skipped away to the kitchen. It wasn’t long after that there was a knock at the door. Keiji opened the door and froze in shock.

“I’m so glad it was you who opened the door,” Konoha said from the hallway. “I don’t know what I would have done if that bonehead’s face was the first thing I saw when the door opened.”

“You made it!” Bokuto called out as he returned, a bag of barbecue chips in hand and a fistful of said chips raised to his mouth.

Konoha glared at Bokuto for only a moment before his expression shifted to polite curiosity as he stuck his head into the doorway. “Can we come in, Akaashi?”

He stepped aside to let the four of them in. The “we” Konoha referred to included himself and Kanmuri, who followed behind him with a sympathetic look towards Keiji. It also included two other members of the volleyball club: the first was Washio, who kept his face down as he stepped inside; behind him was one of the team managers, Suzumeda.

“We brought fruit!” Suzumeda said with a nervous smile, holding out a plastic bag filled with pears. “Bokuto said your mom was here, and then Washio suggested we bring something, so...we brought fruit!”

“Thank you, Suzumeda-san,” Keiji said, too stunned to question what she or Washio were doing there.

“Hurry inside and I’ll give you the tour!” Bokuto called from behind him.

Konoha, Kanmuri, and Suzumeda soon followed Bokuto inside. From the other side of the apartment, Keiji heard Shima shout, “look at how big the backyard is!”

Washio took his time in the entryway as he slipped his shoes off, lingering behind and holding Suzumeda’s bag of pears.

“It was nice of you to think of bringing something,” Keiji said.

Washio nodded and was silent for a long moment. It was clear that he had something to say, but the struggle he appeared to be suffering from came as an additional shock to Keiji. He always said things so plainly, directly, and without thought; Washio only stated facts, which left little to be unsure of when he spoke.

“Should I put this somewhere?” he asked, holding the bag out.

Keiji showed another guest to his kitchen, which was empty now. The rest of his guests must have grown tired of gawking at his backyard. He took the bag from Washio and set it on the counter before gesturing to the fridge. “We have cold drinks, or I could make tea.”

“I’ll take tea.” Washio still had that look on his face. He stared at the floor with it as Keiji filled a kettle and set it on the stovetop. He was so unused to seeing Washio with this type of expression that he wasn’t sure how to move forward.

“Akaashi?” Kanmuri walked into the kitchen holding his phone out. “Bokuto-san said he was in charge of the buzzer, but I thought I should let you know anyway. Huang just messaged me to say he’s up the street.”

“Good,” Keiji said. “We can get to work soon. Would you like tea, Kanmuri?” He started pulling mugs out from the cupboard but stopped with a frown. “I don’t think we’ll have enough cups for everyone.”

“Probably not, once everyone arrives,” Kanmuri said. “Huang said that -- “

Shouting from down the hall interrupted him. Keiji excused himself once again to check on Bokuto and his entryway. He passed by the living room and noticed everyone’s things in a pile on one of the couches. It wasn’t an ideal study environment for him, but if that’s where everyone preferred to work, he didn’t see the point in raising a dispute.

In the entryway, Keiji found himself yet again surprised by who he found. Bokuto was holding the door open for the four new arrivals, none of whom were Huang. First through the door were Sarukui and Komi, who wiggled their fingers at Keiji as they stepped inside. Behind them were Nishi and Tategami, a middle blocker and wing spiker from Bokuto’s year.

“Where’s Huang?” Keiji asked. It wasn’t the only question he had, or even the most pressing one, but it was the only one he could vocalize in the moment.

“We ran into them a few blocks away,” Sarukui answered.

“ _Them?_ ”

“Yukippe was making him carry her things. She picked up some extra snacks.”

“Shirofuku-san?” Keiji squeezed his eyes shut. Once Shirofuku and Huang arrived, that would be all of the second and first years from their club. In his home. All at once.

Bokuto’s phone hooted. He shouted “Yukippe!” as he answered it.

“What took you so long to invite us to your house, Akaashi?” Komi asked, reaching up and pinching Keiji’s cheeks together between his forefinger and thumb. “You’ve been to my house before; doesn’t that seem unfair?”

Sarukui smacked Komi’s hand away. “Be careful not to bruise our precious kouhai! Though I have to say,” he gave Keiji a Bokuto-level pout, “I’m disappointed too. You’ve been to my house twice already.”

“Now we finally get to go through your baby pictures. After Bokuto talked them up for so long,” Komi said, his eyes shimmering.

“Bokuto said your mom’s home. Is that right, Akaashi?”

“Is she nice? Is she strict? Does she like volleyball?”

“Quit smothering him!” Nishi yelled, smacking the both of them in the back with the shoe he had just removed. “If you ever make it onto the team, he’s never going to send you the ball if you treat him like that all the time.”

“We’re just curious about our Akaashi,” Sarukui said, trying to rub the spot Nishi had hit.

After taking a deep breath, Keiji said, “I understand your curiosity, Sarukui-san. I’m sure my mother will be excited to meet you as well.”

Sarukui grinned and petted the top of Keiji’s head.

Bokuto was shouting into the intercom again. “Okay, it’s open! Hurry and get onto the elevator before it locks!” A tiny Shirofuku and Huang disappeared out of frame of the camera. Bokuto clapped his hands together and turned to Keiji. “Everyone’s here, Akaashi!”

“Everyone,” Keiji repeated.

“Everyone!” Bokuto beamed.

 _Everyone_ , Keiji thought to himself.

  
  


☆☆☆

  
  


Keiji sat in his living room, surrounded by members of the Fukurodani Volleyball Club.

Abandoned mugs and empty sports drinks bottles were scattered along a low table that sat in the center of the room, a pile of empty chip bags in the center. There was a smaller pile of empty snack packages under Shirofuku, who was sitting upside down at the end of one of the couches. Sarukui was seated beside her, reading historical events out of a textbook while Shirofuku recited the dates. For every one she got correct, he fed her a snack. Currently, he was feeding her from a packet of Doraemon-themed dorayaki. They were the only ones doing anything remotely close to schoolwork.

In a corner of the room, Kanmuri and Komi were miming digs they had seen each other make during past practice matches. Off to the side, Shima was listening closely and copying their movements as if in practice.

Emi laid on the floor, scribbling in a notebook. The two most straight-faced members of the club,Tategami and Washio, were sitting beside him, watching as he drew. Once he was satisfied, he held the notebook up. Washio broke first, slapping a hand over his mouth to suppress a snort of laughter; Tategami only slightly smiled, but it was enough for Emi to grin smugly to himself. The drawing was of an extremely fluffy owl with exceptionally large, round eyes, sitting on top of a volleyball. A thought bubble came out of its head that read ‘how do I spike again?’

On the opposite end of the couch as Shirofuku, Bokuto sat on the armrest and held his phone out so Huang, who was sitting in a nearby armchair, and Nishi, seated on an ottoman beside the couch, could see the screen. A clip from a pro volleyball match was playing. The three of them cheered in response to a spike, and Bokuto shoved the phone in Keiji’s direction.

“Hey, Akaashi! Did you see this? Look at that set! Could you send me a toss like that?”

He was sitting at the end of the couch beside Bokuto, so he had seen it. “Bokuto-san, those are professional players.”

“So what? You’re Akaashi! You always give the best tosses.”

“I appreciate the vote of confidence, but I’m trying to study, Bokuto-san.”

“A- _kaa_ -shi.” Bokuto slid down beside Keiji, squeezing between him and the arm of the couch. “You always study so hard! Relax for now. Everyone’s here! It’s like a party!”

“This isn’t supposed to be a party. This was supposed to be a study group.”

“Well...it’s like a study party!”

“Bokuto-san…” He didn’t have the resolve to argue. He just wanted to study as best as he could. The textbook in his lap was open, but he had been staring at the same page for some time now and not a word of it had stuck.

Behind Emi’s group, Konoha and Suzumeda were sitting on the couch across from Keiji. They were making goofy faces at Konoha’s phone, taking selfies together. At the sound of Washio’s laughter, Konoha poked him with his foot and looked down at him with raised eyebrows. Washio gestured to the notebook and Konoha leaned down to look at it, guffawed, snatched it and showed it to Suzumeda, who had just taken a drink from her tea. Upon viewing Emi’s drawing, the tea was expelled from her mouth; a deluge of tea dropped to the floor. She covered her mouth and looked across the room at Keiji anxiously, apologetically. Keiji left to grab a towel.

It definitely was not a study-friendly environment.

He returned with a towel, which Suzumeda took from him and immediately knelt down to dab at the carpet, apologizing as she did so.

“Suzumeda-san, may I ask you something?” Keiji asked, kneeling beside her.

“Of course! Uh,” she paused and looked up at him, “as long as you’re not going to ask me to pay to have your carpet cleaned.”

“It’s not that,” he said. “My mother and I have spilled black coffee on the carpet so many times, I don’t think it would be noticeable even if this did leave a stain.” 

“Then yes!” She smiled brightly at him and returned to pressing the towel against the carpet. “Ask away.”

“You, Shirofuku-san, Nishi-san, Tategami-san...none of you have studied with us before. What made you decide to do so now?”

“Um.” Her motions slowed again. “Akaashi, if you’re that upset about the tea, I _can_ leave, if you want…”

“Shirofuku-san, I didn’t mean it that way. That was poor timing on my part, I’m sorry -- ”

“I’m just teasing you, Akaashi!” She swatted him with the towel and then clenched her teeth at the damp spot it left on the shirt of Keiji’s uniform. “I can’t speak for the rest of them,” she said, wiping the spot on Keiji’s shoulder with her hand, “but personally, I don’t do well studying in groups. I have to be alone to focus. It’s nothing personal! That’s just how it works for me.”

“I understand that,” Keiji said.

“If you’re curious about the rest of us,” Shirofuku said, “it’s not because studying in groups is hard. I study with Nishi and Tategami sometimes, and other kids in our year outside of the club. The reason I don’t study with your friends, Akaashi, is simply because they’re too stupid to study with.”

Besider her, Sarukui sighed. “I want to be upset by your reasoning, but…”

“She’s not really wrong,” Washio said.

“I get good grades,” Konoha defended himself.

“Getting better grades than your friends doesn’t make them _good_ ,” Nishi said.

Suzumeda turned around and lightly patted Konoha’s knee. “Don’t mind.”

He brushed her hand away and stuck his tongue out at Nishi. “I don’t want to hear that from you, _top-of-the-class-san_.”

“I think the fact that he _is_ top of the class means he can say it,” Komi said. Konoha scowled at him.

Suzumeda patted his knee again. “Don’t mind, Konoha.” He jerked his leg away from her.

“What about you, Tategami-san?” Keiji asked, turning to him. “Is that why you never joined us?”

“Well,” Tategami started, “I mean, you’ve studied with Bokuto before, right?”

“I see. I think I can understand your position.”

“Aw- _KA-AH_ -shee!” Bokuto stood and grabbed Keiji. “Don’t agree with him!” He pulled Keiji back to the couch, forcing him into a position where he was half-sitting on Bokuto’s lap. At any other time, he would have felt overwhelmed to be in this position; but in that moment, he was almost too frustrated to even notice. 

“What made you decide to come today?” Keiji directed the question at Shirofuku. She was the closest, and the only one he could see given the angle at which Bokuto held him in place.

She recited another date and Sarukui fed her another bite of dorayaki. As she chewed, she said, “it seemed fun.”

“Fun?” Keiji wanted to laugh at the comment.

“Bokuto really put an emphasis on the ‘party _’_ in ‘study party’ when he asked us to come,” Suzumeda said, still dabbing at the carpet. “Though it was surprising to hear you of all people were throwing a party in the week before exams!”

“Really, Akaashi, how irresponsible,” Sarukui chuckled and went to pop the last bite of dorayaki in his mouth. Before he could, Shirofuku elbowed him in the side so hard he flung the treat sideways and it landed in her hand. Keiji didn’t notice any of this. He didn’t even hear what Sarukui had said; all he could hear was buzzing in his ears.

“Bokuto-san.” He pulled himself out of Bokuto’s grip and sat properly on the couch. “You told everyone this was a party?”

“No, I said it was a _study_ party.”

Keiji stared at Bokuto, completely dumbfounded.

“Kei? Oh -- oh my.” In the doorway stood his mother, looking around the room with wide eyes. “I didn’t expect you to have this many people over.”

“I didn’t realize quite how many there would be either,” he said. He hadn’t considered how his mother might react to having so many children appear in her home, unannounced. She looked surprised, but who wouldn’t be.

“It’s almost the whole club, oba-chan!” Bokuto called out from the couch.

“You’re all on the team with Keiji?” Her question was answered with a chorus of “YES!” and her eyebrows shot up in alarm. In fairness, she had most likely never had so many teenagers shouting at her at once. “Well,” she started as her smile returned and she tried to regain her composure, “I trust you’ll all take good care of him, right?” Another affirmative chorus answered her, with an “oba-chan!” tacked onto the end by half of the group.

“If we’re too noisy,” Keiji said, “we can end things early. I wouldn’t want to disrupt your work.”

“Oh no! You’re not bothering me,” his mother reassured and disappointed him. “But -- seeing how many of you there are now, I certainly didn’t buy enough for you all to eat.” She eyed the large pile of empty bags. “Should I go out and get more?”

“Don’t worry about that.” Keiji stood quickly, moving to the pile of school bags to rifle through his own. “I can go get more.”

“Are you sure, Keiji? I could order you all something.”

“That’s not necessary.” He pocketed his wallet and keys. “Konoha-san, would you mind coming along?”

Konoha nudged Washio with his foot. “You heard Akaashi.”

He was about to say, “you don’t have to, Washio-san,” but Washio was already standing, grabbing his own bag and emptying it out.

“So we have something to carry the snacks in,” he answered to Konoha’s quizzical look.

“Need anymore help?” Emi offered.

Keiji nodded. “Thank you, Emi.”

“Akaashi!” Bokuto turned backwards on the couch to face him. “Should I come too?”

“No, Bokuto-san, that’s not necessary.”

Sarukui tugged Bokuto forward so he faced the correct way. “Don’t be sad, Akaashi will be back soon.”

As Keiji passed his mother, she patted him on the shoulder. “Did you all know that Kei has always been first in his class? Is that why you’re all so eager to study with him?”

“ _Mom_ \-- ”

“C’mon, Akaashi,” Emi said, tugging on his sleeve and pulling him into the hallway. “Let’s get out of here before you implode.”

As he slipped his shoes on in the entryway, Keiji could hear Bokuto shout, “oba-chan, tell us more about Akaashi as a kid!”

“Yeah,” Saru said, “tell us more about our Akaashi!” Keiji could hear the grin in his voice.

He pulled on his shoes and ran out of the apartment faster than he ever had before.

  
  


☆☆☆

  
  


“Akaashi really does look like his mom, huh?” Konoha mused. He was standing in a corner of the elevator as the four of them travelled down to the lobby.

“If he grew his hair out a little longer,” Emi said from the opposite side of the elevator, “they would be nearly identical. Do you hear that a lot, Akaashi?”

Keiji wasn’t listening. His eyes were closed, head bowed down as he tried to process the afternoon so far. He had just wanted to study. Was Bokuto really so oblivious as to think it was appropriate to invite nearly the entire club when he was trying to study? Was he so thoughtless that he didn’t care how much harder that made things for Keiji?

Yes, he could be exceptionally oblivious, but Bokuto wasn’t thoughtless -- at least not in that regard. He had his own way of thinking, but he wasn’t heartless. Undoubtedly, his only concern for the evening was to have fun.

Keiji worked so hard to make accommodations for Bokuto, but this was taxing. This was too much. Is this what high school would be like until Bokuto graduated? Would he ever pass an exam again?

Beside him, Washio was leaning against the wall of the elevator, his school bag slung over his shoulder.

“Washio-san, may I borrow your bag?”

Washio looked back at him with uncertainty, but handed him the school bag.

Keiji took the bag from him and unzipped it halfway, stuck his face into the opening, and screamed. It was short, but loud enough that it echoed off the walls. The elevator was silent as he pulled his head out, zipped the bag up, and handed it back to Washio, who was staring at him with concern now. Konoha wore a similar expression, but Emi wore one of surprised delight.

“Thank you, Washio-san.”

“Wonder if the neighbors heard that,” Emi said.

“The elevator is virtually soundproof,” Keiji said, “so I doubt it.”

By then, the elevator had reached the ground floor. The other three followed Keiji as he stepped out into the lobby.

“Hey, Akaashi,” Konoha walked at his side, keeping a safe distance between them, “anything you’d like to get off your chest?”

Keiji stopped in the middle of the lobby. “I’m...a little overwhelmed.”

“Yeah, that much is clear. Care to elaborate?”

“Washio-san,” Keiji turned to him again, and Washio had that look of unease he had been wearing on and off that afternoon. “You seemed apprehensive about something when you arrived. I think I realize now what it was you were worried about.”

“Uh...yeah.” Washio rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I only realized it at the last second, but...it didn’t seem like there was anything I could do. Sorry.”

“You’re not to blame for Bokuto-san’s actions.” This was true; Keiji couldn’t blame him for not trying to get in Bokuto’s way. Washio was the least confrontational of all the second years, the rest of whom loved to take on Bokuto at any time for any reason. Washio could hold none of the blame. On the other hand...

“Did you know Bokuto-san had invited the rest of the second years?” Keiji asked, turning to Konoha. “You must have, because you arrived with Suzumeda-san and Washio-san. Why didn’t you say anything? To Bokuto-san, or to me, in warning?”

Konoha threw his hands up in front of him. “Hey, hey! I’m not the one who invited half my year to your house! He said you would be fine with it, and...you have such a soft spot for Bokuto, I figured he was right.”

Keiji had only just finished mentally chiding himself for being so lenient with Bokuto. Now that Konoha had pointed it out, he couldn’t exactly point fingers at him, either. He stared straight ahead, through the window in the entryway door. “So...am I to blame for this...? Still, I never thought he would invite so many people over...”

“In all fairness,” Washio said, putting a hand on Keiji’s shoulder, “Konoha is the one who invited _me_ , so he is partially to blame.”

“Hey!” Konoha shouted. “I’m not the problem here!”

This was exhausting. What was the point in trying to find someone to blame? That wouldn’t change the fact that he had an apartment full of high schoolers waiting for him to return.

“I don’t see the point in spoiling a guy like that,” Konoha said as they continued into the courtyard.

“It’s not spoiling to take care of the person you -- ” Keiji paused, stopping himself from saying too much. “To aid someone you want to see succeed,” he continued.

“I would say weekly sleepovers go a bit beyond ‘aid,’ _Agashee!_ ” When Konoha said his name, he posed with his legs outstretched, his fists held up, head thrown back.

“He doesn’t stay at my house because of _aid_.” Keiji walked past the imitation of Bokuto. “He stays because I like spending time with him. Isn’t that the point of friendship?”

“I don’t think Akaashi can be blamed for wanting to spoil Bokuto,” Emi said as they turned onto the street. “Look at how much his mom adores him. Spoiling is how he learned to show he cares.”

“That’s different,” Konoha said, running to catch up. When he reached them, he wrapped an arm around Keiji and squeezed. “Who could resist spoiling him? He’s our favorite kouhai! No offense, Emi.”

“None taken,” Emi said with a laugh.

Keiji kept his mouth shut. He stayed quiet because he didn’t want to argue about his relationship with Bokuto, didn’t want to hear his teammates analyze his relationship with his mother, and because part of him realized Emi had made a valid point. Konoha’s comment had reminded him of his conversation with the first years from the day before, and that only further prompted him to keep his mouth closed.

It wasn’t long before they reached the convenience store. Once inside, they passed a near-empty pear display. Between the four of them, they were able to decide on snacks and treats that everyone would enjoy. At the register, Keiji pulled his wallet out to pay but Konoha put a hand out to stop him.

“Please, let your senpai take care of this,” he said with a serious expression. He turned to Washio then and dropped his voice. “Hey, split this with me.” Only slightly frowning, Washio pulled his own wallet out.

A _hoot_ from his pocket alerted Keiji of a message. He pulled his phone out as Emi watched over his shoulder.

“Is it from Bokuto-san?” Emi asked.

“No,” Keiji said with a shake of his head, “my mother.” At the same time as he read her message, a notification from his bank popped up. Her message read, ‘ _transferred something to your account just in case you decide to get extra!_ ’

“Oh.” Emi’s voice was so thick with delight, the sound of his grin stretching wider and wider echoed through Keiji’s mind. “How kind of her.”

Keiji quickly put his phone in his pocket. “Not another word, Emi.”

Emi only chuckled in response.

  
  


☆☆☆

  
  


Upon their return, everyone was excited to see them -- albeit more so for the snacks than their presence.

As soon as Keiji entered the living room, Bokuto and Sarukui grabbed him and pulled him to the center seat of the couch.

“Akaashi! You were so cute as a little kid!” Bokuto shouted.

“Especially,” Sarukui said, “when you dressed up like a cherry blossom for your school play.”

Keiji hid his face in the palm of his hands. “She showed you those pictures.”

“Not only that,” Komi said, leaning over the back of the couch, “she said she had a video of it. She went to go get it.”

His mother came back holding a dusty vcr and Keiji sunk back further and further into the couch. At least everyone else was enjoying themselves -- even if it was at his expense. The video _was_ funny, especially when his stage partner, a frog, forgot all of his lines. Younger Keiji recited them himself as well as his own, affecting a different voice as he said his partner’s lines. All of his fellow club members were laying across each other on the couches, sitting over each other on the floor, while watching and cooing on command whenever his younger self had a line (or said someone else’s.)

Keiji didn’t get any studying done that evening; in that respect, it wasn’t much different from the usual second year study sessions. It grew dark, and the others began to leave. The managers were the first to go, and then the first years. The second years were the last to trail out, and soon the only ones left were Bokuto, Konoha, and Sarukui.

When the three of them finally left, Keiji walked them to the elevator. Ever since they had left for the convenience store he had been thinking; about what Konoha said, about what Emi said, about how he and Bokuto treated each other. Was there a grain of truth in what the others had teased him over? Did he do too much for Bokuto? Make too many allowances?

The second years chatted while Keiji called the elevator. It came and they turned to say goodbye to him. Before they left, he needed to communicate...something, to Bokuto, but he didn’t know how or what it was he wanted to say.

“Bokuto-san...would you mind speaking with me for a moment?”

“Sure, Akaashi!” he said, hopping off the elevator.

“We can wait here too,” Sarukui offered, about to follow Bokuto into the hallway.

“Uh, no,” Konoha grabbed him by the collar and pulled him back into the elevator. “We’ll just wait downstairs for you, ‘kay, Bokuto?”

Bokuto waved at them as the door closed and then turned back to Keiji. He circled each of Keiji’s wrists with his index finger and thumb, brought them into the air, and then back down again. “Today was so much fun, wasn’t it?” he asked, repeating the motion.

“Well...I think everyone certainly enjoyed themselves.”

“They definitely did!” 

“Bokuto-san…” Keiji’s fingers twitched, eager to grapple with each other. “I’m very glad that you feel so comfortable in my home, that you enjoy spending time here, and that you know the ins and outs of this building as well as I do.”

“Me too, Akaashi!” Bokuto brought their hands high above their heads before dropping them again and repeating the action.

Keiji twisted his hands, gripped into Bokuto’s wrists to stop him from waving their arms up and down. “But you invited all of the second years here without so much as a warning.”

“Oh.” Bokuto frowned, his arms stopped moving. “Should I have told you? We always study with Washio, Komi, and Saru, so I told them to come! And then I told Yukippe about it, and she was interested ‘cause it was at your house, so I ended up inviting everyone else here too!”

“I understand your eagerness, Bokuto-san, but when you invited everyone here...was it with the intention of studying, or only to have fun?”

Bokuto’s expression twisted into one of plain guilt. He stayed silent.

“I see.” He knew Bokuto wouldn’t like what he said next, but for both of their sakes, he didn’t have a choice. “I think for now, I should study with the first years and you should continue to study with the second years. Separately.”

The look of guilt left Bokuto’s face. Something not quite neutral but still unfamiliar to Keiji replaced it.

“Akaashi...are you mad at me?”

He was taken aback at the question. “Mad at you? No, I’m just...overwhelmed.”

“Because of me?” He gave Keiji a look as pitiable as any he had worn since their loss to Kawahori.

“Because...a lot of reasons. One reason being that one-third of the volleyball club showed up in front of my building this afternoon.”

“So...if we study separately, you won’t be mad at me anymore?”

“Bokuto-san, I’m not mad at you, I promise.”

“...But we can’t study together anymore?”

“For now,” Keiji said. Bokuto had dropped Keiji’s wrists; his own hands gripped into the strap of his school bag. Keiji’s heart, his gut, his whole being was telling him to give in. Instead, he pressed the call button for the elevator. “Konoha-san can help you much better than I can. And I’m only a phone call away if something like yesterday happens. Trust me, everything will work out for the best this way.”

“I trust you, Akaashi.”

Keiji couldn’t read Bokuto’s expression because he had turned away from him and stepped onto the elevator. Bokuto’s mood shift from earlier, the way he had avoided Keiji, the memories of Bokuto’s odd behavior shifted forward in his mind, and he realized he had an idea as to what had triggered Bokuto’s personality shift.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto waved weakly and the elevator doors closed.

_‘“So...am I to blame for this…?”’_

When he had said it earlier, in front of Konoha, Washio, and Emi, he had only been talking about the throng of teenagers in his apartment; he had never considered he might be responsible for such a drastic shift in Bokuto’s personality. He dug the heel of his palms into his eyes and pressed until he saw stars. Was this the cost of putting his own needs first? Putting Bokuto in such a state of anguish that he wouldn’t even go to Keiji with his problems?

If that was the price, was it worth it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **nishi:** nishiamerikafukurou or california spotted owl, a middle blocker in bokuto's year. nishi is the last of my owl ocs!
> 
> when akaashi and konoha are im'ing each other...i was thinking they were using line (hence the usernames) since that seems to be more popular than straight texting, but then after writing it i realized line came out in like 2012? and i think canonically this would take place in 2011, so...they're using some other messaging service i guess :)
> 
> ty so much if you read or left kudos or esp if you left a comment!! i dont know how to respond to them but they mean everything to me so ty σ(≧ε≦σ) ♡


	7. ep 4.3: a moment, a promise, an icy treat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> after much reflection, akaashi makes a promise to himself.

For the third day in a row, Keiji’s classroom received a visitor during lunch.

Keiji stood in the only empty space in the third floor hallway: the staircase leading up to the roof. The visitor who had pulled him from class stared down at him from a few steps above, wearing the same expression he had used on Konoha the day before.

“I heard about your party, Akaashi.” Captain Torii’s arms were crossed in a disapproving gesture. “It’s unlike you to behave so irresponsibly. I was surprised.”

The breath Keiji released came from so deep within him that his stomach felt lighter afterwards. This was a consequence he had never imagined. “I was surprised too, Torii-san.”

“I understand Bokuto had a hand in throwing the get-together, but you can’t say yes to everything he asks of you. Learn to say no sometimes.”

 _‘I don’t see the point in spoiling a guy like that,’_ Konoha’s voice repeated in his head. That’s what he kept hearing: that he shouldn’t try so hard to take care of Bokuto. If not for Bokuto, why else would he be in the club? On the team? What else was he good for? The look Bokuto wore the night before when Keiji had finally told him no -- the absence he’d left behind once he was gone -- was all Keiji could think about. Was he really doing his job properly if Bokuto could make a face like that?

“Torii-san, may I ask you something?”

The captain’s eyes grew wide, as if he hadn’t planned on fielding questions while he reprimanded his setter. “Uh, yes. Of course.”

“In your opinion,” Keiji's fingers found themselves glued together in front of him; his palms itched with insecurity, “why was I given the regular position?”

Torii let out a snort of breath, short and high. “Akaashi, I’m trying to scold you for throwing a party the week before exams, and you ask me that now?”

“I know it seems sudden. Still, if you don’t mind...”

He stood there, examining Keiji and his question. “Why do _you_ think you made the team?”

Keiji took a step back, his hand catching on the rail to stop himself from tumbling backwards. “What do _I_ think?”

“It’s the third time you’ve asked me that question since you became a starter. You’ve obviously been thinking about it a lot.” Neither of them had moved, yet somehow, Torii looked taller as he spoke. Or maybe it was Keiji who felt smaller. “I ask again: what do _you_ think?”

His hand gripped tighter into the rail. The answer was obvious. “Because of Bokuto-san.”

“You think the only reason you’re on the team is because you and Bokuto get along?”

For the third day in a row, his thoughts were being plainly stated in front of him.

“I do,” Keiji answered.

Torii’s expression shifted thoughtfully, as if he was trying to find the best way to tell Keiji that yes, his sole purpose for the team _was_ based on a bond that he may have permanently damaged less than twenty-four hours ago. Before explaining anything, Torii sat down on the step beneath him and patted the space beside him. Keiji sat there.

“When you’re playing with Bokuto compared to when you’re playing without Bokuto, you look like you’re having more fun with him. Enjoying the game is important. It may be the most important factor; it’s certainly the best motivation to get you on the court and to fuel the drive to improve. Don’t you agree, Akaashi?”

 _Fun_ was not the subject he had expected Torii to bring up. He answered with a nod anyway.

“Personally, I have the most fun when I'm playing with my younger cousins. They’re terrible at the sport, so I alter my plays accordingly. I make things easier for them. I don't let them win because they’re weak; I help them grow stronger. In a way, it helps me improve too. When I’m _not_ playing with them, when I'm playing just to win, is when I play the best.”

Keiji nodded again, though he felt lost in the metaphor. He gave the captain the benefit of the doubt and let him continue.

“It’s clear that you have the most fun on the court when you’re sharing it with Bokuto, but when he’s not around, you still shine. It might be hard to notice since Bokuto is the neediest of the bunch and the most vocal about it, but you bring out the best in everyone. That's what a setter should do. I don't doubt that even if Bokuto wasn’t there, you would have made regular before the end of the year.”

“Are you saying I play better when Bokuto-san is off the court?”

“It’s not a direct metaphor,” Torii chuckled. “Despite his mood swings, he’s the ace for a reason. But _you_ and your relationship with the game are more than just your relationship with Bokuto.”

For some reason, that stung for Keiji to hear. “So I made the team because…”

Torii smiled and a warmth reached his eyes that seldom appeared on the stern captain’s face. He ruffled Keiji’s hair. “You have to fill in that blank for yourself.”

It was just as Bokuto had said the first night he went to Keiji’s: his doubts were his to conquer. No one could satisfy them but him.

“Thank you, Torii-san. For answering the question I keep repeating so thoughtfully.”

“That’s what captains do. Now,” his expression shifted, back to the serious one Keiji was used to, “about your party.”

“I know. It wasn’t supposed to be a party, honestly. I wanted to study. The rest...well, Bokuto-san had other ideas about how the afternoon should be spent.”

Torii waved his hand, motioning for Keiji to stop. “It’s not the recklessness I'm concerned about.”

“Oh?” Keij relaxed and sunk back into his seat. “What is it?”

“It’s the fact that you excluded all of the third years.”

Keiji’s jaw clenched. It was another consequence he never could have imagined.

“We felt left out, especially when Sarukui showed us the baby pictures on his phone this morning.”

He let out another very deep breath as he put his head in his hands.

  
  
  


☆☆☆

  
  
  


Guilt piled in Keiji's stomach throughout the day. He kept to his word despite it, and met up with the rest of the first years after school to study. On their way to Kanmuri’s house, Shima made them stop at a convenience store so he could pick up the newest flavor of Garigari-kun. As the others went inside to pick out snacks, Keiji sat on the pavement with his knees pulled up to his chin, staring at the newest draft of a message to Bokuto he had spent the day composing. After reading it over for a third time, he erased it all, then began again. Three sentences in, he erased that draft. His next attempt was interrupted by Emi’s head poking over his shoulder.

“Who are you messaging? Oh, of course. How is our favorite paisen?”

Keiji dropped his hand to his pocket in an attempt to hide the mess of a draft he had crafted. “I wouldn’t know. I haven’t spoken to Bokuto-san today.”

“Uh-oh!” Emi crouched down beside Keiji, nudging him in the shoulder and grinning as he did so. A bag of squid flavored chips balanced on his knees. “You wanna talk about it?”

Through narrow eyes, Keiji peered at the expression Emi wore. “You speak as though you’re a person of great compassion, but your expression says otherwise. I get the sense that you’re enjoying this.”

Emi’s eyes squeezed shut with laughter. “Sorry, I am a little.” He put a hand on Keiji’s shoulder and shook as Keiji rolled his eyes. “C’mon! The two of you are making quite the drama out of whether or not you _study_ together.”

“I know.” Keiji let out a deep breath and dropped his forehead to his knees. He'd had the same thought one thousand times if he’d had it once. “It was...the first time the team relied on me. The other second years are the ones who asked me to help Bokuto-san study, and now I’ve left them out to dry. It feels like...”

“Like you let the team down?”

Keiji nodded, his head bowed between his legs. “I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve done something wrong. Bokuto-san says he wants me there but I’m nothing more than a distraction.”

A moment of silence passed as Keiji let the embarrassment from sharing his inner thoughts wash over him. The moment came to an abrupt end when Emi rapped his knuckles against the back of Keiji's skull. Keiji yelped and grabbed his head.

“So what if you think you’re a distraction? If he says you make a difference, then take his word for it. Trust others a little more.” His eyebrows rose as he popped a chip in his mouth. “If that’s too hard to do, then fake it. Pretend you do until it sticks.”

Keiji squinted at him again. “It sounds like you’re encouraging me to spoil him.”

“Does it really? Or is that what you want to hear?” Emi grinned as he grabbed another chip. “Go along with him if you want to. If you don’t, he’ll get over it. Avoiding him altogether is only running away from your problems, and I don’t know how many times I’ve heard you scold Bokuto-senpai for doing that.”

Keiji looked down at his knees. His fingers grasped at each other beneath his legs. “You don’t think I’m making things harder for him?”

“Akaashi,” he rapped Keiji across the head once more, “it’s just studying. Even if he gets a bad grade, there’s always remedials.”

“What if it’s not just that?”

Emi watched him, his eyebrows raised expectantly, but Keiji continued to stare at his knees in silence. He wasn’t ready to give up anymore of his insecurities just yet.

Ever since their loss to Kawahori, Bokuto had been different. Keiji had taken extensive notes on the differences in his behavior: his mood, diet, speech -- including the way he said Keiji's name. One of the most notable differences was how much clingier he had become. It wasn’t a trait that bothered Keiji, but there were other changes; ones he was avoiding taking note of. Changes in his own state of mind, although it wasn’t so much of a change in his thought process as it was that his thoughts had shifted to a new topic.

There must have been something _he_ could have done differently. If the setter was supposed to bring out the best in everyone, as Torii said, then hadn’t he failed Bokuto, failed the team, by not allowing them to reach their full potential? By not allowing his ace to shine like the star he was?

“...Akaashi?”

Still, Emi watched him, waiting patiently for a response that Keiji was unwilling to give.

The _hoot-hoot_ from his phone saved him.

  
  
  


☆☆☆

  
  
  


Keiji found himself back at the school gate.

It had been Konoha who called. The second years were studying in the library, but as soon as Sarukui had pulled out a textbook, Bokuto had bolted.

The gym was the first place Akaashi checked. The doors were locked, which meant Bokuto didn’t have the key and wasn’t inside. He would have them open on his way in.

If it was the library he had run from, that was the last place Bokuto would be. Akaashi began his search on the opposite side of the school, starting from the first floor -- that was the floor they had been studying on.

Keiji poked his head into bathrooms and pressed his ear against closet doors along the first floor hallway. The classroom doors were all open; the students inside who saw him stick his head through or against every doorway gave him odd looks as he passed. His phone was on, calling Bokuto’s number while he looked, but he hadn’t heard the familiar _hoot-hoot_ yet.

He had almost given up his search of the first floor, passing through the corridors once more before he moved on to the second story. A few third years were still roaming the hallways. As he passed a pair, he overhead them gossiping about whether or not the school was haunted. 

“Ghosts? At Fukurodani? I think you’re getting sleep-deprived students confused with supernatural entities,” one of the third years scoffed as Keiji stuck his head into an empty classroom.

“I’m telling you, Rin, it was a ghost! How else do you explain the sound of _moaning_ coming out of _nowhere?_ ”

Keiji froze at the mention of moaning. He waited for the third years to continue talking.

“C’mon, Yuma. Are you sure there wasn’t anybody else around?”

“I was completely alone in the hallway! The student store was _empty_ when I passed but I swear I heard moans coming from inside!”

“Hey, first year, slow down!” Rin yelled as Keiji sprinted past them.

Once he reached the student store, he dialed Bokuto’s number again. There was a very faint, very muffled _hoot-hoot_ he could hear when he pressed his ear against the locked door. He turned the corner to find the window of the student store. The sound of Bokuto’s ringtone became a little more clear.

There was a narrow space between where the acrylic that dropped from the ceiling ended and the counter began. Keiji squeezed most of his upper body through it and hung his head over the other side. Beneath the counter, laying on his side and huddled against the wall, was a figure with a tuft of silver hair sticking out from one end. He backed out of the window and into the hallway, slid his bag across the counter, then crawled once again through the narrow window until he toppled gracelessly to the floor on the other side.

When he landed, he turned to examine the curled up figure and Bokuto’s eyes met his.

“Akaashi?”

“Hello, Bokuto-san.” Keiji crawled forward into the small space left beneath the counter, between Bokuto’s head and the adjoining wall. “May I join you?”

He managed to squeeze into the corner where the two walls and the counter met. When he sat all the way upright, he had to duck his head down to fit. He sat crouched over instead.

Beside him, Bokuto shifted; he scooted upwards, toward Keiji. In his lap, Bokuto found plenty of space to rest his head. Keiji, who had been resting his hands there, pulled them up to his chest as Bokuto slid into place.

Silver and grey locks scattered over Keiji’s lap like starlight. Bokuto’s hair had been left unstyled again. Had he woken up too late to fuss with it? Was he too upset to bother? Had he been unable to sleep and trained on his own in the morning? Keiji wanted to know the answer, but more than that, he wanted to run his fingers through the hair in front of him. His hands felt as if they were twitching violently in longing, but when he looked down at them, they were completely immobile.

Once Bokuto had settled, he startled Keiji by grabbing one of his hands and holding it against himself, kneading Keiji’s palm and fingertips with his own calloused hands.

“Bokuto-san, I wasn't fidgeting.”

“I know. This is just my habit.”

Bokuto had closed his eyes, but even if they had been open, it was too dark for him to see the flush that spread across Keiji’s face. He couldn’t help himself now. His hand reached down automatically and tangled itself in the starlight before him. He combed Bokuto’s hair with his fingers, letting it fan out across his leg, and Bokuto let out a sigh. Keiji’s fingertips dug lightly into his scalp and he dragged them through his hair; with his thumb, he rubbed circles into Bokuto’s temple.

“Ah- _ga-aw-_ shee.” Bokuto opened his eyes and glowered up at Keiji. “You spoil me too much!” He rolled onto his side, facing away from Keiji, who pulled his hand away in response. After a moment, Bokuto looked back over his shoulder. “You stopped.”

“Oh.” And then Keiji realized, Bokuto had moved to give him better access. His hand dipped back into the pool of starlight and he scratched at the base of Bokuto’s skull. Bokuto hummed in content and squeezed the palm he still held between his hands. Keiji’s chest tightened

“I’m sorry, Bokuto-san.”

“It’s okay. You’re scratching my head now.”

“I’m sorry I said we couldn’t study together.”

Bokuto turned and reached out to pinch Keiji’s cheek. “Don’t be sorry.” Keiji’s hands dropped to his lap as Bokuto shifted. He sat on his knees next to Keiji. “You were just worried about your grades. I understand.”

“You were acting odd the other day, as if you were avoiding me." Keiji searched for a way to occupy his hands as he spoke. He tried folding them in his lap. "Was that because you thought I was mad at you?”

“I wasn’t sure, but it seemed like you might be. I figured if I acted polite, it would make you less mad.”

“It’s unlike you to think so hard about something. That’s my foible.”

“It was more like...I decided _without_ thinking.”

“I see. That sounds more like you.”

“I know! Wait...was that an insult?”

“I wasn’t mad at you, Bokuto-san.” Keiji’s fingers were twitching in his lap then. When Bokuto reached out towards his hands, Keiji pulled them back. He stared at his empty palms, trying to focus on something other than Bokuto, something that would help his heart feel calmer. “Even if I was upset with you, I don't want you to avoid me. Please don’t ever avoid me. I prefer the clingy and greedy Bokuto-san, the Bokuto-san who unabashedly relies on me. When you behave as you normally do, it makes me feel at ease. I find comfort in being relied on. In being relied on by...you.”

There was a short stretch of silence before he heard Bokuto’s voice. “That makes me happy to hear.” When Bokuto reached for his hands again, Keiji didn’t flinch away. “‘Kaashi?”

It was the second time Bokuto had said his name like that. He couldn’t look up, but he couldn’t keep looking at their connected hands either. He closed his eyes and tried to at least breathe normally.

“You can rely on me too.”

“I know, Bokuto-san.”

“Sometimes…” He paused and Keiji opened his eyes to look up at him. Bokuto was examining his face, his nose scrunched up in concentration. “I have this feeling like there’s something you’re not telling me.”

Bokuto’s gaze was too much. If he maintained it, Keiji thought he might be able to see right through him; see into every nook and cranny of his thoughts, see every detail he worked so hard to conceal.

“It’s not like I think you have a huge secret. It’s just a feeling, I guess.” Bokuto’s face relaxed. “But whatever! Even if you did, I'm sure you’d have your reasons. As long as you know I'm your super reliable ace who you can always count on!” He smiled so brilliantly that it lit the whole room, and Keiji felt as at ease as Bokuto looked.

“Thank you, Bokuto-san. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Bokuto’s face contorted again, this time into a deep frown. “I was scolded by Torii-san earlier. I'm sorry too, about yesterday. But not only because I was told I had to apologize! I didn’t take your studying seriously. You were right. I just wanted to have fun.”

Keiji sighed. “I know, Bokuto-san, but studying is important.”

“Ugh, Aw- _ka-ah_ -shee! Don’t bring that up _now!_ ” Bokuto slammed his chest back down against Keiji’s lap and let his head hang over the edge of Keiji's leg.

Keiji smiled and ran his hand through Bokuto’s hair, scratching at the nape of his neck. “You’re the one who brought it up, Bokuto-san.”

“I know, but it’s no fun.”

“Fun? There’s more to life than fun, Bokuto-san.”

“Akaashi...I want to have that moment.”

“That moment?”

“ _That_ moment.” He sat up again, his hands pressed against Keiji’s knees to prop himself up. He was too close to Keiji’s face. “When volleyball becomes _fun_.”

“You look like you’re having fun to me.” It was true; Keiji had never seen anyone have half as much fun on or off the court as Bokuto had when he nailed an extra narrow cross shot. If this was something on Bokuto's mind often, he really was much more thoughtful than Keiji gave him credit for.

Bokuto sat back and bit his lip. “Do I? Well, I like winning, and we win a lot.”

Keiji ignored any addendums his mind tried to add to that statement. “Quite often, I would say.”

“Do you have fun when you play?”

“I do,” Keiji answered immediately. “I have fun when I play with you, Bokuto-san.”

“So you _have_ had that moment!” Bokuto leaned forward, his eyes growing wide. “What was it like?”

Keiji shrugged. “There isn’t one moment that sticks out. Every time we play together is fun.”

“Hmm.” Bokuto stared at him with that scrutinizing gaze again.

“Are you ready to go back to the library now, Bokuto-san?”

Bokuto seemed to deflate then. His eyebrows turned up and his lips jutted out. And then Keiji remembered Shima and his melonpan.

“If we both study our hardest, then how about for every hour we study, we can play volleyball for ten minutes after?”

Bokuto’s eyes shimmered in the darkness. “Really?!”

“If that goes well, maybe we can even leave early.”

“Akaashi!” Bokuto jumped up, grabbing his bag and holding his hand out to Keiji. “What are we waiting for?!”

Keiji took his hand and let himself be hoisted up. “You know, Torii-san scolded me as well. He made me promise to invite him and the other third years over to my house after exams to meet my mother. And see my baby photos," he added.

“You’re so popular! Yesterday when I told everyone I was going to your house, they were so jealous. I felt like I was the member of a really exclusive club.”

“You are, Bokuto-san. You’re the first person to call my mother ‘oba-chan.’”

Bokuto smiled brightly again and squeezed Keiji’s hand. “I feel like we reached a new level, Akaashi.”

Excitement hummed over Keiji’s skin like electricity. Their hands were still connected; he wondered if Bokuto could feel it.

“I think we’re definitely _best_ friends now!”

“I'm happy to hear you say that, but don’t tell Konoha-san,” Keiji laughed. “He thinks of himself as everybody’s best friend.”

“All three of us can be best friends. The whole team can be best friends! Can’t we?”

“I suppose you’re right.”

With one last burst from his smile, Bokuto dropped Keiji’s hand and turned towards the window. He chucked his bag through and put both hands on the counter, readying himself to climb across. Keiji put his hand on Bokuto’s shoulder and Bokuto turned back towards him.

“To me…” His heart was racing. His skin hummed even stronger than before. “Bokuto-san has always been my most precious friend.”

Bokuto’s glowing smile quietened then. It was soft and vibrant, and it leaned in close to whisper in Keiji's ear. “Don’t tell the others, but you’re my favorite too.” When Bokuto pulled away he winked, and then he turned back towards the window to begin crawling into the hallway.

Keiji’s heart might have stopped then, but he couldn’t tell. All he knew was Bokuto, who cursed as his belt caught on the acrylic window.

He remembered the moment as clearly as he could see Bokuto in front of him now. The moment he had found his star soaring through the sky; the moment he had decided to go to Fukurodani. The moment volleyball had changed for him. Right then and there, as he watched Bokuto tumble out the other side, pick himself up, and give Keiji a thumbs up, he promised himself that he would do everything he could to make sure Bokuto found that moment for himself.

  
  
  


☆☆☆

  
  
  


A week after exams ended, Bokuto forced the club to celebrate them all receiving passing grades by staying an extra two hours late for spiking drills. After practice, Keiji suggested a much more reasonable celebration: going to the convenience store for ice pops. The weather was almost too chilly for such a cold treat, but few of them minded after such an exhausting practice.

Most of the club had gone home already. It was only Keiji and his five best friends -- Bokuto, Washio, Sarukui, Konoha, and Komi -- who made it to the convenience store. After they picked out their desserts and paid, they left the store, one by one, and waited nearby. They were too tired to move and eat at the same time. Bokuto was the last one left, taking his time as he picked between the variety of flavors offered.

Keiji had purchased an iced coffee-flavored bar. It was a flavor he had seen before but never tried. When he bit into it, he was delighted by the blend of sugar and bitterness. As he enjoyed his treat, Komi and Sarukui argued about the newest flavor of Garigari-kun while Konoha and Washio lamented over the sufferings of being Bokuto’s practice partner.

By the time Bokuto finally emerged, Keiji had finished his ice pop. Even more delightful than the flavor of his dessert was the message written on the stick: ‘congratulations, you won! Exchange for one free ice pop.’ He looked up to share his good news with the second years, but instead saw Bokuto running towards them, a grimace on his face.

“Damn it!” He yelled as he ran into the empty street. “I messed up!”

Konoha groaned. “How do you have so much energy left? What kind of reserve do you have...”

“What happened, Bokuto-san?” Keiji grabbed his sleeve and pulled Bokuto out of the street. “Were they out of the flavor you wanted?”

“Akaashi!” Bokuto held his ice pop out as he turned his face away. “Ever since I woke up this morning, I’ve been craving chocolate. I wanted chocolate so bad! But I…” He shook the ice pop, and Keiji finally took notice of what flavor it was. “I got matcha instead!”

“If you wanted chocolate, then why did you get matcha?”

“Ah-ga-aw-shee-ee! How can you ask me that?!” Bokuto flung his arms out wildly, demonstrating the inner workings of his mind. “I _really_ wanted chocolate, it was all I could think about! But then I -- ” but then, he waved his arm with too much wild abandon and the ice pop flew backwards out of his hand. “Oh.” He turned, saw the broken matcha bar in the middle of the street, and turned back towards his teammates. “My matcha ice cream…”

His shoulders slumped forward and his head dropped. With a sigh, Keiji turned around to pick up the broken ice pop. As he bent down, he remembered his own bar and the winning stick he had received.

“Bokuto-san,” Keiji hid the remnants of the matcha bar behind his back, “look. Your ice pop was a winner.”

“Huh?” Bokuto turned towards him. “A winner?”

Keiji nodded and held the winning stick out. Bokuto took it, examining it closely.

“Akaashi!” Bokuto looked up at him, all the light returning to his eyes. “You’re right! I'm a winner!” He turned back towards the store and ran forward with his arms raised in the air. “Hey, hey! Nice one, me!”

Once Bokuto was gone, Washio raised an eyebrow at Keiji. “That was awfully nice of you, Akaashi.”

“So you noticed that, Washio-san?” Keiji ignored the gaze from the other second years as he threw the rest of Bokuto's matcha bar into the trash can outside of the convenience store.

“Wow! That winner was yours?” Komi asked. “No wonder. Bokuto would never be so lucky.”

“Akaashi!” Konoha pointed his half-eaten soda-flavored ice pop at Keiji. “Isn’t that going too far? You don’t have to spoil Bokuto so much!”

“I know that, but I enjoy cheering him up.”

“Y’know,” Sarukui walked up to Keiji and slid an arm around his shoulder, “I’ve been thinking about this for a while, but I think you spoil Bokuto more than the rest of us.”

“He _is_ the ace. Doesn’t that warrant some special treatment?”

“Sure, he’s the ace, but is a free ice pop really gonna help him score the winning point?” Sarukui stuck his finger out and poked it against Keiji’s chest, nearly wiping his melon-flavored ice pop on him. “Why's it so important to you to make him happy all the time?”

“Well...I made a promise to myself.”

“What?” Konoha said with a mouthful of ice pop. “A promise?”

Bokuto emerged once again from the convenience store, this time with a solemn expression.

“Oh, dear,” Keiji sighed.

“I got matcha again,” Bokuto moaned.

“Matcha? _Again?_ ” Komi tutted and walked up to Bokuto. “Are you sure it’s matcha? It doesn’t look like it.”

“What? Of course it is.” Bokuto held the ice pop out to him. “Look at the color! And it says ‘matcha’ right on the packaging.”

“I guess you’re right.” Komi leaned closer, appraising the packaging.

“See! I told you -- hey!”

Komi yanked the ice pop out of Bokuto’s hands and ran. Bokuto chased after him, but as Komi passed Keiji and rounded the corner, half the bar was already devoured. There was no hope for Bokuto.

“Hahah! Serves him right!” Sarukui laughed and pointed as they disappeared around the corner. “Oh, wait!” He pulled out his phone and chased after them. “I gotta get this on film!” He turned the corner and was gone. Keiji was left with the unassuming gaze of Washio and the judgmental glare of Konoha.

“So a promise, huh?” Konoha shoved the last bite of ice pop into his mouth and tossed the wrapper in the garbage. “What kind of promise?”

“Konoha.” Washio hit his shoulder with the back of his hand. He turned to Keiji. “If you want to keep it to yourself, that’s fine. We won’t pry.”

“Like hell we won’t!” Konoha wrapped his arm around Keiji’s neck, yanking him away from Washio and dropping his voice until it was just above a whisper. “Hey, we’re close, right, Akaashi? I would say we’re even best friends, wouldn't you? So tell me, your best friend Konoha, what kinda promise you made to yourself.”

“I'm happy to tell you, Konoha-san. You don’t have to strangle me to persuade me.”

“Tell me what it is and I’ll consider letting you go.”

“The promise I made to myself is that I will spoil Bokuto-san as much as I want.”

Konoha stood straight. His arm dropped to his side. “You promised what now?”

“I promised myself that I would spoil Bokuto-san to my heart’s -- ”

“No.” Konoha shoved his hand in Keiji’s face. “i heard you. I mean -- that’s it? To spoil Bokuto?” Keiji nodded. He turned to Washio, who was doing his best to hide a smile. “You hearing this?” He nodded too, and Konoha turned back to Keiji. “So you made a promise to yourself to spoil that big hungry baby -- not to get the team to nationals, not to make us the best team in Tokyo, not to make yourself the best setter in Tokyo, in the country, not even to make Bokuto the best ace -- it’s just to _spoil him?_ ”

“Of course those are my goals.” Keiji frowned at him. “As a member of the club and as the team’s starting setter, those are my natural goals that I work towards everyday. This is a personal promise I made to myself. I want to see that Bokuto-san has fun.”

Konoha shook his head and walked back over to Washio. “Can you believe this? He wants Bokuto to have _fun_.”

“What are you so upset for?” Washio smiled as Konoha glared at him. “It’s not like he’s our son. Let him do what he wants.”

“He practically is,” Konoha pouted. “Fine. I won’t say anything else about it. You can do whatever you want, Akaashi.”

“I knew you would say that,” Keiji smiled, “because all of you spoil me as much as I spoil Bokuto-san.”

Konoha rolled his eyes but didn’t have the chance to respond beyond that. Komi reappeared, holding two empty ice pop sticks, followed shortly by Bokuto, who had neither ice pop nor ice pop stick, and then sarukui, whose phone camera was still running in his hands.

“Akaashi!” Bokuto wailed. “My ice cream!”

“How many times has Komi-san pulled that trick on you? You really should have learned your lesson by now.”

“But Aw-KA-AH-shee!” Bokuto came up from behind Keiji and dropped his chin against his shoulder. “I didn’t get any ice cream!”

“We have chocolate ice cream at my place, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto jumped in front of him and grabbed Keiji by the shoulders. “Really?!”

Keiji nodded, and Bokuto shouted, “hey, hey!” and bounced all the way down the street to the train station. The six of them parted ways there, all with differing plans for the evening and varying destinations. Once the two of them had boarded the train, Keiji shared a plan he had devised with Bokuto.

“We won’t be able to go home together tomorrow, Bokuto-san.”

“But we always go home together.” Bokuto stuck his lower lip out and bumped his shoulder against Keiji’s. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

“I made plans to study with the first years.” Keiji answered. The train stopped and a few more passengers boarded. Keiji's feet shifted as he inched closer to Bokuto. The train was full, but not so full that they had to be pressed so closely against each other. He stayed by Bokuto's side anyway.

“Exams are over, Akaashi! We don’t have to worry about the next ones for weeks.”

“The first years all study together once or twice a week, so I decided to join them,” Keiji explained. “It’s a healthier habit than panic-studying at the last minute. This way I'll be able to relax when exams come around. I'll be better prepared.”

Bokuto tugged on the Vabo-chan keychain that hung from his schoolbag. "If you do that, then we won’t be spending as much time together.”

“Actually, Bokuto-san...I decided to study with them regularly so that you and I could spend more time together. This way, when exams come around, I can focus on helping you rather than worrying about my own studies.”

“Oh.”

Another stop came and went. The volume of passengers decreased, but Keiji felt no need to put any distance between himself and Bokuto. Their shoulders bumped against each other, the back of his hand slid against Bokuto's. That electricity was there again, humming along his skin.

Bokuto leaned over, so close that Keiji was scared to turn his head.

"Hey, 'Kaashi. Thanks for always spoiling me so much."

His heart trembled at the sound of his name. "You're welcome, Bokuto-san." He accepted Bokuto's gratitude as if he had any choice but to indulge him. With or without a promise, there was nothing else for Keiji to do but cherish the shining star before him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the haisute scene i referenced i never would have been able to experience if it were not for the lovely people who share them with those of us who don't have access. i didn't use anyone else's translations verbatim, but i tried to interpret the scene in a way that fit into this story.
> 
> thank you so much for the love this fic has received ;__; i read every comment but i feel so awkward replying to them. if you have a question abt sth or a comment you want me to see i always reply on tumblr or twitter! thank you sm if you bookmarked commented left kudos or even just skimmed through this fic!!


	8. ep 5.1: mind your belongings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> akaashi experiences his first shrine visit to celebrate the new year; it's filled with prayers, omamori, fortunes, and an unfortunate altercation

At eleven-thirty in the evening on the last day of the year, Keiji left his apartment to meet three of his teammates in front of his apartment building. From there, they walked to Meiji Shrine. The crowd had seemed relatively sparse when they passed through the first sacred gate -- the first _torii,_ but after following the path into the park and rounding a bend, they faced an immense crowd of people, all waiting to go inside.

“My butt is about to freeze off,” Shirofuku complained, wrapping her arms around herself and rubbing her hands up and down her puffy sleeves. “Whose idea was this again?”

“C’mon, this will be worth it!” Konoha reassured them. “It’s gotta be the most popular shrine in Japan for a reason, right? And Akaashi lives right by it!”

“Didn’t you say this was a family tradition?” Keiji asked.

Konoha nodded, shaking his head vehemently, as if shaking it enough would warm the rest of his body. “I mean, a lot of people do a midnight shrine visit on new years, but our parents can barely stay up past ten. Me and my siblings started doing midnight visits once my brother was old enough to take us out at night. Afterward, we would stay up for the first sunrise of the year. Whoever stayed up the latest got to collect the _otoshidama_ from the other two.”

Suzumeda hummed and raised an eyebrow. “Now I’m starting to see why you insisted on us coming with you, Konoha.”

“You’re trying to get our New Year’s cash, huh?” Shirofuku asked, crossing her arms.

“It’s part of the tradition,” Konoha shrugged.

Suzumeda rolled her shoulders back confidently. “I’m in. I have plenty of experience staying up all night cramming for exams.”

“Me too. Though I’m in it just ‘cause I wanna take Konoha’s money,” Shirofuku added.

The bells began to ring, denoting the first midnight if the new year; as soon as it did, the crowd began to slowly crawl forward. Keiji pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked his messages. Each of his teammates had sent him a celebratory message, including Bokuto, who had addressed his message “to: my future vice-captain!” Of course, he signed it, “from, your future captain!” Keiji put his phone back in his pocket, where it sat snugly beside his keys and wallet.

“Should we wait for Bokuto-san before we go in?” Keiji asked.

“I don’t think so,” Suzumeda said. “He said he would meet us to watch the sunrise after he visits a local shrine with his family. I imagine it will be a while before he gets here -- though at this rate, he might arrive before we get in.”

“Will it really take that long? I thought he lived nearby.”

“Forget about that, Akaashi! This is important!” Konoha grabbed Keiji by both shoulders. “Are you willing to put your New Year's money on the line?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t have anything to bet. My mother never partook in that tradition.”

Konoha’s hands dropped and he frowned. “Oh.”

“Hey! You’re not thinking, _‘then what are you even doing here’_ right?” Suzumeda chided.

“Of course I’m not!”

Suzumeda continued to glare at him and Shirofuku wrapped an arm around her shoulder to calm her down. “Why didn’t your siblings want to come this year, Konoha?” She asked.

“My older brother lives out of town now, and my little sister is too embarrassed to be around me anymore. She went with a friend’s family instead.”

“Aw.” Shirofuku reached out to pat his cheek. “Your li’l sis doesn’t like you anymore?”

“It’s not like that!” Konoha swatted her hand away. “She’s at that age.”

“Do you want us to call you _onii-san?_ ” Shirofuku offered. “And you can say it to Akaashi -- pretend he’s your big bro.”

Konoha wore a look of disgust. “I’d rather we didn’t.”

“Onii- _chan?_ ” Suzumeda said with a grin.

“Akaashi,” Konoha begged, “help me.”

“Please call me _onii-san._ ”

“I hate all three of you.”

  
  


☆☆☆

  
  


When they finally made it inside past the final _torii_ , the crowd forked off into two sections; one half dispersed as it headed further into the shrine while the other half mobbed in front of the offertory boxes. The four of them stopped at the edge of the crowd and Konoha nudged Keiji with his elbow.

“You’ve never done this before, right, Akaashi? Right? You need your senpai to show you how it’s done, huh? Huh?”

His eagerness alarmed Keiji, but Shirofuku came to his rescue and shoved Konoha aside.

“Don’t worry, Akaashi, I won’t let him steer you wrong.” Konoha protested, but Shirofuku ignored him. “Normally, you could place your five yen coin into the offertory box directly, right? But we’re never gonna get through this crowd.”

Keiji nodded in acknowledgment. “So how do we make our offering?”

“Throw it!” Shirofuku raised her hand high in the air, pulled it all the way back. “You just gotta chuck it over all these people’s heads!”

“Shirofuku-san, I don’t know if that’s a good idea -- ”

She flung her arm forward, released the coin, and it glided through the air, disappearing just beyond the crowd. Keiji applauded politely, genuinely impressed. After performing a small fist-pump, Shirofuku finished her offering by bowing and clapping twice. Then she turned to Keiji.

“Maybe I’ll try to get a little closer,” Keiji said.

“Nonsense. You’re an athlete! You got this.” Shirofuku smiled and patted him on the shoulder.

He gave her an uneasy look, but she only squeezed her eyes shut and smiled wider. So he took a deep breath, pulled his arm back, and threw. The coin made it halfway before it dropped onto someone’s head. They grabbed the top of their head and spun around, a glare pointing to the back of the crowd. Shirofuku grabbed Keiji by the arm and yanked him down to the ground with her.

“You know why that didn’t work, don’t you?” She whispered as they crouched.

“Because it was a bad idea in the first place?”

“You forgot to bow.”

“...Didn’t you bow only after you threw the money?”

“...Well, maybe the gods didn’t like the way you threw it?”

“I see.”

Keeping low to the ground, they decided it would be best to circle back to the offertory boxes, so headed toward the stalls of souvenirs. Visitors still crowded the area, but the crowd had gathered mostly around the stalls -- stationed in two rows across from each other -- leaving a gap between the two lanes where Keiji could easily move around and see what each of the stalls offered. He stopped in front of one selling _omamori,_ the amulets designed to bring luck to the bearer, and overhead a child, young enough she didn’t yet reach the height of the stall counters, pointing and chatting excitedly with her parents.

“I want an amulet! I need one!” She cried out.

“Oh, do you want one for school?” Her mother asked.

“No, I want one for love! Romance!”

Her father picked her up and carried her away while laughing. “No way! Focus on your studies first.”

At that same counter, Keiji looked over the baskets full of amulets, all organized according to category. There were too many to count -- amulets for personal health, success in business or studies, even ones for traffic safety. The options for love amulets were boundless -- amulets for marriage, family well-being, even couples amulets that came in pairs. At the end of the row, a basket of amulets who’s descriptive tag read _‘to find a partner’_ caught his eye, and Keiji’s heart couldn’t help but beat a little faster as he stared at them.

“Whatcha lookin’ at?”

Keiji started and turned to see Konoha, smiling at him in that way that he had long since learned not to trust.

“Spring High’s coming up. Lookin’ at the success _omamori_?”

“Of course not,” Keiji answered. “We’ll win with hard work, not charms.”

“Mhm.” Konoha looked past Keiji to the basket of amulets he stood in front of. “So you were looking at the _love_ ones?”

Keiji’s face heated up, his whole body went tense. “No -- I was looking at -- ” He pointed to a basket of small dragon figurines attached to keychains. “These. It’s the year of the dragon, after all. Bokuto-san has teased me several times because my key ring is too plain for his taste, so I thought about adding a charm.”

Konoha stared. “Uh-huh.”

His eyes darted to Konoha, briefly, to try and read his face, to confirm if Konoha really could see through Keiji, but he couldn’t look long enough to learn anything; the embarrassment he felt was too great.

“Speaking of our soon-to-be captain,” Konoha continued, “have you accepted his request to be vice yet?”

“No, and I won’t be,” Keiji stated, happy for the conversation to turn to a topic he felt capable of discussing without his heart imploding. “Bokuto-san only asked me because he wants someone to do all the grunt work for him.”

“That’s definitely true, but have you considered the fact that, if you don’t do it, one of us second years will have to do it? _I_ might have to do it?”

“I think you would make a wonderful vice-captain, Konoha-san.”

Konoha scowled at him. “What happened to spoiling him to your heart’s content?”

“I’m happy with the amount I currently concede to Bokuto-san.”

“But Akaashi -- ”

At that moment, one of the stall’s attendants appeared in front of them, offering help, and Keiji realized how long he had been standing there. He nodded politely and excused himself, rushing through the crowd and to another stall. The next stall he found himself at offered fortunes, so he drew one. Suzumeda was there too, having just drawn her own. Before Keiji could open his, she turned to him, grabbing his arms and gripping tightly.

“Akaashi! This is terrible!” Her eyes grew wide as her fingers dug in deeper.

“What is it, Suzumeda-san?”

“My fortune!” She held out a small slip of paper, shaking it in the air. “I’m cursed! I’m _greatly cursed!_ ”

Shirofuku appeared, and Suzumeda lunged at her, wrapping her arms around Shirofuku’s shoulders. “Yukie! I’m _cursed!_ ”

Shirofuku patted her back and nodded toward Keiji. “Did you get cursed too?”

He unrolled the fortune in his hands. “Oh, it says ‘great blessing.’”

“Akaashi!” Suzumeda wailed, turning to face him. “Share some of your good fortune with me!”

“I don’t know that I can, Suzumeda-san.”

“Suzumeda get cursed again?” Konoha asked, approaching them with a small bag in his hand.

“C’mon, Kaori,” Shirofuku cooed, patting her on the back. “Let’s go tie your bad fortune up, okay? That should help dispel those cursed vibes.”

As they began to walk away, Konoha wrapped an arm around Keiji, pulling him to the side. He lowered his voice and leaned in. “Hey, you ran away from me earlier, didn’t you?”

“Did I?” Keiji avoided Konoha’s gaze. “I’m sorry if it seemed that way.”

“Sure, sure.” Konoha looked him over, appraising Keiji’s expression. “You’re not holding out on being vice for any other reason than you don’t want to do it, right?”

“That’s right, Konoha-san.”

“So you’re not worried that it might get in the way of you and Bokuto and your... _relationship?_ ”

Keiji’s whole face burned as if on fire. Once again, he felt the intense desire to run away, but Konoha’s grip prevented him from doing so. “I don’t know what you mean. My relationship with Bokuto-san is no different than my relationship with you. We’re teammates, that’s all,” he said, nearly choking on the viscosity of his own lies.

“Right, of course. That’s for the best anyway. One of our club’s strictest rules is no dating -- that goes double for dating other members of the club.”

“What?! That doesn’t -- I don’t -- ”

“HAH!” Konoha slapped Keiji on the back so hard he had to take a few steps forward. “Gotcha.”

Keiji slowly turned toward him. “What…?”

“Don’t worry, I made that up,” Konoha grinned. “That wouldn’t be any fun if it were true, would it?”

Keiji bent over, rested his hands against his knees. He felt dizzy from the whiplash Konoha had inflicted upon him. “Konoha-san, please don’t torture me like this.”

Konoha laughed hysterically, so caught up in his own delight that Keiji wondered if he had been heard. Then he held his hand out to Keiji, his fist closed around something..

“A new year’s gift,” Konoha explained, “since you said you never got an _otoshidama_ before.” He opened his fist and an amulet fell out into Keiji’s palm. “It’s the _sowa mamori_ \-- a special amulet for luck in _love_ they only offer at this shrine. Should be extra powerful, right?” Konoha paused then, lifting his hand and giving Keiji a thumbs up. “I’m rooting for you, _Ahgahshee!_ ”

A pale yellow pouch laid in the palm of Keiji’s hand, with a golden tree stamped onto the front of it and dark gold lettering. He felt frustrated, but even more than that, he was embarrassed at how excited the _omamori_ made him.

“It works best if you keep it on you at all times. Maybe keep it on your key ring?” Konoha suggested, knocking his fist against Keiji’s shoulder before following after Suzumeda and Shirofuku.

It was just a trinket. A trinket couldn’t magically make things happen, he knew that. And yet the sight of it made his throat sting.

It was a gift, after all, and a gift from one of his closest friends should be cherished. For no other reason than that, he pulled out his key ring, tied the amulet to the metal loop, and rubbed his thumb across the golden pouch.

  
  


☆☆☆

  
  


After another visit to the offertory boxes, they decided to leave the main shrine. They passed through one of the _torii_ and headed toward the food stalls.

“Oh, looks like our ace should be here soon,” Shirofuku said, looking down at her phone.

“I bet he’ll complain that we didn’t wait for him once he gets here,” Konoha said, rolling his eyes. “I wonder how much New Year’s cash he gets…”

Keiji kept his hands in his pockets for warmth. He could feel the amulet, tucked between his phone and wallet, and pulled the key ring out. His thumb brushed over the fabric as he admired it, and then Konoha called out to him.

“Akaashi?”

Keiji looked up, startled to see how far ahead of him they had gotten. He shoved the keys back into his pocket and jogged to catch up with his teammates

“I’m right, aren’t I? Bokuto is gonna sulk about how we didn’t wait for him!”

“He may be upset, yes.”

“I bet I got such a bad fortune because I was greedy,” Suzumeda insisted, still worrying over her _great curse._ “I bought new _omamori_ and _ofuda_ before I got rid of the ones from last year.”

“That’s why I dropped off all my old ones to be burned at a shrine by my house this morning.” Konoha tapped the side of his head and gave Suzumeda a sidelong glance. “You shoulda been thinking’ ahead.”

Shirofuku furrowed her brow, her gaze darting between the two of them. “I don’t think that’s how it works, but I don’t know enough about either of them to dispute you -- ” and then her arm shot out, blocking the other three from moving forward. “Food,” she whispered.

And there food was; stall upon stall of food vendors.

“Food,” Suzumeda repeated, her voice a whisper.

“Akaashi.” Shirofuku stood beside him and linked her arm in his. “Let’s have our first meal of the year together. My treat. I’ll have plenty of cash to spare soon, after all.”

Konoha glared at her. “Don’t get cocky yet! I saw you yawning earlier.” Shirofuku stuck her tongue out in response, and Konoha did the same.

“Thank you, but I’m not hungry,” Akaashi said.

“But Akaashi,” her voice turned into a mumble as they approached the food stalls, “first meal of the year...”

The second years didn’t argue much more than that, too distracted by their own stomachs and the bounty of food before them to worry about Keiji. It took another long wait in line for them to get any food, but they soon had their hands full of mackerel and snow crab on skewers, and paper sleeves full of _takoyaki_ and _yakiimo._ Since all of the outside seating was full, they continued along the path. Suzumeda chastised the other two for eating as they walked; after waving her concerns away, Konoha tripped and nearly choked on a skewer. The path led them to a building with a gift shop and an indoor seating area, where they managed to find seats. As his teammates sat down, Keiji stayed standing and pointed in the direction of the gift shop.

“My mother asked me to bring her back something, so I’ll check the gift shop while the three of you eat.”

“Why didn’t you get her something while we were inside the shrine?” Suzumeda frowned, pointed her skewer at Keiji.

The memory of Konoha terrorizing him with _omamori_ flashed across his mind and made his ears pound.

“It must have slipped my mind.”

The second years waved him off and he left for the gift shop.

The small shop carried specialty teas and sweets, handkerchiefs, bookmarks -- all high quality merchandise but nothing especially unique that he couldn’t find a similar version at any convenience store. He regretted letting Konoha get the best of him earlier, scaring him away from buying anything at the stalls inside the shrine. Maybe, once Bokuto arrived, they could go through the shrine together, and he could help Keiji pick something out. His mother always liked the gifts Bokuto brought her, but that may have been just a symptom of Bokuto’s charismatic charms.

He pulled his wallet out, to make sure he had enough in cash to get whatever Bokuto picked out (because he always picked out more than necessary) but his keys came flying out with it. They landed on the ground, just a few footsteps away. He leaned down to pick them up and noticed the amulet was missing. Ah -- he had stuffed everything into one pocket, so it must have been pulled off when his key ring rubbed against his phone and wallet. He pulled his phone out, turned his pocket inside out, and nothing. It wasn’t there. Not in the pockets of his jacket or the pockets of his pants. The floor around him was bare.

There was no need to panic, he told himself as his heart raced and his ears turned numb. It had to be somewhere, it couldn’t have disappeared. It must have fallen out of his pocket, and it had to have been recently, because it wasn’t long ago that he had pulled his keys out of his pocket and seen the amulet --

He had pulled his keys out of his pocket. Somewhere between the _torii_ and the food stalls. The amulet would be there. It had to be. All he had to do was retrace his steps.

He left the gift shop and followed the path they had come from. The crowd had by no means thinned; it only grew more compact as he neared the vendors. Travelling against the flow of people proved to be as difficult as he expected it to be. He nodded apologies at all the visitors he rushed past, only slowing his pace once he reached the outdoor seating area, and kept his eyes pointed down. There were too many people pressed together, too little light against the ground, making the dirt path barely visible. The panic reverberating in his chest pounded harder at his ribs. Every few footsteps, a stretch of dirt would open in front of him and a shiny pebble would catch his eye -- the realization that came afterward only fueled his dread.

Konoha had given him the amulet maybe an hour ago, maybe an hour and a half. He had been given a gift from one of the people closest to him, and he’d lost it in less than two hours. Konoha wouldn’t be upset when he found out. If anything, he would delight in the opportunity to have one more thing to tease Keiji about.

That knowledge didn’t bring him any relief.

The _torii_ appeared in his sights. He would go up to the gate and turn around, keeping his eyes stuck on the ground. It had to be here somewhere. He would walk even slower on his way back, and if he weaved through the crowd instead of going straight, he would cover a wider area. He would even pull his phone out, use the flashlight app to light up the path --

Up ahead, halfway between Keiji and the gate he had walked through a short while ago, an expanse in the path opened and he could see the ground -- could see the glimmering golden pouch that laid in the dirt, and his heart nearly jumped out of his throat. He rushed forward, his hand reaching out to grab it, and right before he took the last step toward his amulet, someone else leaned down and snatched it off the path.

“A love amulet!”

A young girl, not yet old enough to even reach the height of the stall counters, held Keiji’s _sowa mamori_ up in the light, admiring it with eyes nearly as wide as her smile. It was the same girl he had seen fawning over the baskets full of _omamori_ earlier.

“Excuse me,” Keiji said. She clutched the amulet tightly to her chest as he approached her. “That belongs to me. May I have it back?”

The girl wrinkled her nose and squinted at him. “No, _I_ found this. It’s _mine._ ”

“Yes, you found it because I dropped it.”

“If you still wanted it, then why’d you leave it here in the first place?”

Keiji flinched at the accusation. “It was an accident,” he explained, holding out his hand. “Now, may I please have that back?”

She held the amulet against her side, guarding it from Keiji with her body. “I wrote on my _ema_ board that I wanted to find love, and then I found this!”

“That’s not love, that’s just an amulet.”

“But it will lead me to love!”

“It won’t, because it belongs to me. Please give it back.”

“It belongs to _ME!_ ”

Keiji frowned, exhaled through his nose. “Where are your parents? I don’t think they would care to discover their child has become a thief.”

“I”m not a thief! I’m a FORAGER!”

“You can’t forage someone else’s belongings. You took another person’s property -- that’s theft.”

“I _told_ you,” she stamped her feet against the ground for emphasis, “I _found_ this!”

“That doesn’t make it yours.”

Her lip jutted out, quivered. “Why are you being so mean?!”

“I’m not being mean -- ”

A scream erupted from the girl, followed by several sharp sobs. Her eyes squeezed shut and tears streamed down her face.

“Oh, god.”

Keiji leaned down, reached his hand out to pat her on the shoulder. “Please don’t cry. I need my amulet back, but please don’t cry.”

“LEAVE ME ALONE!” She screamed, slapping his hand away.

 _Oh god._ What had he done? As his hand flew back, another hand wrapped around it and yanked him upright until he stood straight.

“What are you doing?” The young woman who had grabbed him by the wrist gave him a dirty look, then she looked down at the girl. “Do you know this guy?” She swiped her fist across her face, trying to wipe away the tears that stained her cheeks as she shook her head.

The person clutching his wrist didn’t look like the girl’s mother he had seen before, so he at least hadn’t been caught making a child cry by their parent. He didn’t recognize her, and though the shadows obscured most of her features, something seemed familiar in her expression, something he couldn’t place. The sense of familiarity did nothing to put him at ease as her grip on his wrist tightened.

From behind her, another figure appeared. As he placed his hand on her shoulder, his eyes met Keiji’s and he smiled.

“Akaashi!”  
  


“Bokuto-san?”

Bokuto looked between the woman and Akaashi, then the little girl hiccuped and caught his attention. “Who’s your friend, Akaashi?”

“They don’t know each other,” the young woman answered for him. “You know _him,_ Koutarou?”

The implied insult went over his head; all he heard was _Koutarou._ Her familiarity with Bokuto startled Keiji, but before he had long to think about it -- think about how they knew each other, who she was, how close they must be for her to call him _that_ \-- the girl hiccuped again, drawing all of their attention to her.

Bokuto waved to her, then stepped forward and crouched down. “Hey, what’s wrong?” He pulled the sleeve of his shirt down over his fingers and wiped her cheeks with his hand. “What happened? Who made you cry?”

Without hesitation, she pointed straight at Keiji, like an arrow to the gut.

“ _He_ made you cry?”

“He tried to take my _omamori!_ ”

“He did?” Bokuto turned to Keiji, the question in his gaze, and Keiji had never felt greater shame in his life.

“It’s my amulet,” he explained meekly. He could barely look at Bokuto, or the girl, or anywhere but the ground between them. “I...dropped it, and...she found it.”

Bokuto hummed in understanding and scooted closer to the girl, holding his hands out. “May I?” She nodded, and he took both of her hands in his. “I’m Koutarou. Can you say that? Koutarou-kun!”

“Koutarou-kun,” she repeated between hiccups.

"Hey, hey, HEY!” He raised her arms in the air and beamed at her. In return, she gave him a faint smile. “What’s your name?”

“Sakura,” she sniffed.

“Sakura-chan!” He cheered, waving her arms from side to side, and her smile widened. “Is that amulet really special to you, Sakura-chan?”

She shook her head dramatically up and down in vigorous confirmation.

“Thank you, Sakura-chan!” He lifted her hands in the air again, inciting a giggle from her that time. “Since you know just how special it is, I bet you can imagine how sad Akaashi-kun is to have lost it. It’s really precious to him, too. Right, Akaashi?”

Bokuto and Sakura both turned to him and, as all lovesick fools are prone to do, he lied.

“No...it’s not special, Bokuto-san. Konoha-san gave it to me as a joke. I overreacted because it was a gift, that’s all. I’m sorry for causing so much trouble.”

“Oh...so you don’t want it?”

Again, the viscosity of his lies made it hard to even breathe. “...I don’t need it…”

Bokuto turned back to Sakura and gave her another blinding smile. “It looks like you can keep the _omamori_ after all, Sakura-chan! Can you say ‘thank you’ to Akaashi-kun?”

She took one look at Keiji, grimaced, turned back to Bokuto and shook her head.

“Ahahah! What’s wrong, are you scared of him? I guess he is kinda scary from this angle.”

“Bokuto-san,” Keiji said, his tone reproachful.

“Should I thank him for you?”

Her head bobbed up and down. Bokuto beamed at her again, then turned and directed it at Keiji. Their eyes met -- for the first time since Bokuto arrived -- and Keiji had to take a sharp breath.

“Thank you, Ahgahshee!”

His throat felt so dry he wasn’t entirely sure it could produce sound. Despite it, he managed, “you’re welcome.”

Bokuto spent the next few minutes soothing Sakura and making her laugh. Once her tears had dried, he took her by the hand and led her back to Akaashi.

“Sakura-chan says she was going to get food with her parents before she lost them, so we should take her that way.”

“That’s a good idea, Bokuto-san,” Keiji said, more than a little relieved to reunite her with her family.

“Shouldn’t we hand her over to someone who works here? Like a security officer or attendant?” The young woman behind Keiji spoke up, reminding him of her presence, something he had forgotten entirely about. He remembered the way she clutched his wrist, the stare she had given him, sensed the effort she exerted in ignoring him, and his stomach dropped.

“We can do that if we don’t find them by the food,” Bokuto said, “but let’s try ourselves first, aneki.”

Aneki? Aneki…

Then he took another look at her. It was in the eyes, really. They were identical to Bokuto’s. That golden hue must be indicative of their bloodline. Her hair, too, looked similar in color but different enough for a second glance. It looked stark black, but with a second take, Keiji noticed a single streak of solid gray framing her face that he had initially mistaken for bleach blond in the shadows.

_Aneki._

“Do you want to ride on my shoulders, Sakura-chan? That way you can see your parents better!”

She answered by raising her arms in the air. Bokuto lifted her up and over his head, dropping her on his shoulders. He started going, skipping ahead of Akaashi and _Bokuto’s sister,_ leaving the two to trail behind him awkwardly.

“Um -- I -- ” He stammered, still in shock at the situation he found himself in. “I apologize for...the way I behaved earlier. I’m...pretty embarrassed that you found me that way.”

She didn’t spare him a glance, a word, or any type of gesture to indicate she had heard him. After the way she found Keiji, he didn’t blame her. Still, he couldn’t help himself from trying again, either.

“Bokuto-san and I go to school together.” If he could establish that his friendship with Bokuto was real, maybe that would endear him to her enough that she would at least acknowledge his existence. “We’re in the volleyball club together. I’m -- ”

“I know who you are,” she cut him off and gave him a sidelong glance. “You’re Koutarou’s ‘ _Ahgahshee.’_ ”

“I -- ” His heart stuttered in the same way his words did. _Bokuto’s Akaashi?_ He would be hard-pressed to devise a more accurate descriptor for himself. “That’s -- in a sense, that’s accurate, but -- ”

“He never mentioned your habit of picking fights with children.”

Her gaze left him, travelled back to the figure bounding up the path ahead of them. Keiji was too stunned to feel anything. The sensation of his heart physically dropping into the depths of his stomach passed over him, and then his body went numb. All he could do was keep walking.

“I’m Bokuto Minami,” she offered, out of politeness, or plain pity. “Koutarou’s friends call me aneki too -- feel free to do the same.”

“Right…” He could barely get the words out. “It’s nice to meet you, aneki-san,” was all he could muster. He kept his mouth closed for the rest of the walk -- which, thankfully, didn’t take long.

When they reached the seating area, Bokuto rushed forward to the first empty chair he spotted.

“Okay, Sakura-chan, you’ll definitely be able to see your mom and dad from up here! Make sure and look around really good!”

He received a few odd looks from the strangers surrounding him, but something as trivial as a glance never deterred Bokuto. Konoha came jogging up to Keiji, giving Bokuto a quizzical look as he caught sight of him.

“Akaashi, what happened to you? We saw you run out of the gift shop, but you never came back.”

“Well -- ”

The second year managers cut him off with their shouts of “Aneki!” as they ran toward her. They lunged at her, hugging her from either side.

“Aneki is here?! Why didn’t you say so sooner, Akaashi?”

“I only just found out myself.” Minami had an arm wrapped around either manager, smiling and chatting with them. “It’s my first time meeting her, but I see you’re all familiar.”

“Yeah, she used to come to all our games during our first year. Then she got busy, I guess. What’s up with that guy?” He nodded toward Bokuto.

Bokuto still stood on the chair, turning back and forth with Sakura on his shoulders. Then she pointed and shouted, and Bokuto jerked in the direction she pointed. She shouted again, and he jumped down and ran through the crowd.

“Bokuto-san is helping her find her parents,” Keiji explained.

“Looks like it worked.”

Bokuto stopped in front of a couple, the same couple Keiji had seen with Sakura earlier inside of the shrine. Her mother scooped her up into her arms and bowed deeply to Bokuto, then her father scooped Bokuto up into his arms for what looked like a bone-crushing hug. It left Bokuto red in the face.

He pinched Sakura on the cheek and waved goodbye to the whole family, then jogged over to Keiji. “Can you believe that, Akaashi? We found her parents! Sakura-chan sure is lucky she ran into you.”

Sakura held up the _omamori_ to her parents, showing it off and pointing to Bokuto. Keiji caught her eye and she poked her tongue, turned, and hid her face against her mother.

“Yes, Bokuto-san. How lucky.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ty for reading even though this chapter created 100 conflicts and resolved none of them (⌒▽⌒)♡ i should have part two of this "episode" up soon...ish! (⌒_⌒;)
> 
> if you noticed that this is a series now, that's only because i wrote a companion piece that takes place btwn chapters 3 and 4. it's abt washio and konoha and you can [read it here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29374362) if you wanna. i wanted to release it around the same time as this episode bc it gives some fun context for sth that will happen in part two ヽ(°〇°)ﾉ
> 
> come holler at me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/boomairspike) or [tumblr](https://boomairspike.tumblr.com/)!


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